Nightwing: The Darkness
by Darth Yoshi
Summary: In the future, Nightwing battles personal demons that threaten to consume him.
1. Chapter 1

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

He stood on the rooftop of the tallest building in Gotham City, the famed Luthor Tower erected by the now-dead billionaire and former president after the city had been devastated by an earthquake over a decade and a half before. The wind up this high howled and carried the scent of the bay, which could be seen quite easily from the height he stood at. He looked out at it, his mind remembering a time so very long ago.

He looked down and shook his head, letting his hair catch an up draft, The night hid the gray that was starting to form at the temples, but it could not overshadow the weariness in his eyes. He took in a deep breath and mentally dared himself to step off. He had done more times than he could count, jumped from a rooftop to only throw a line to the next building, demonstrating athletic ability and courage that was simply inhuman. He had never really known fear. He had wallowed in despair and depression, but he had never been afraid.

Even now, realizing that of he jumped, he may not throw the line, he was not afraid. His faith and his training told him that what he contemplated was wrong, but he had to admit that in a dark part of his torn soul, it felt so right. He could imagine the fall, the excitement of not knowing, for once, what the finale would be like. He did not fear death. He welcomed it.

In recent months he had found himself talking to the Grim Reaper, daring him to swing his scythe and take him away from all of this. He no longer saw the difference between life and death; he no longer cared if there was one.

The Justice League communicator buzzed on his utility belt but he did not answer it. If he did, he would be dragged away from this moment. He could feel the will building up inside of him, the desire overwhelming the natural need to remain safe and warm. His heart cried out "jump" and his body wanted to react. His legs trembled in anticipation; his grip was not as sure as it should have been.

He could taste the prospect of dying on his lips and he licked them in reflex; they were salty with sweat. The communicator again tried to get his attention and he imagined pulling it off and throwing it into the wind. There was nothing but more life on the other end of any conversation he had using it. His teammates needed him; he was their leader. Guilt began to weigh in on him as he realized that he didn't deserve to be their leader. The League represented the best and brightest the hero community had to offer. He wanted nothing to do with it.

It was expected of him, though, and every day he went through the motions. He got up, put on the costume and pretended that he was made of steel, that he was a super as he hero, the amazing Kryptonian that spent more time with his children now then he did in costume. The truth was he was dying on the inside and had been for nearly seven years now. It was only now that forty was approaching and he saw his life as being nothing more than a long line of tragedy that he began to contemplate just ending it.

In the old days he would have spoken with Leslie, Bruce's personal physician and an old friend of the family. But she was dead now. He would have spoken with Donna, the former Wonder Girl and the first to ever really hold his heart. But she was dead now. He could have turned to Alfred, loyal butler and true friend. But he was dead now.

The cold, hard reality was that he was all alone, but that was not the reason why he hated life so much now. He could deal with being alone for the rest of his life; he had learned that talking to himself wasn't so bad. He was unable to deal with the reasons behind why he was so alone, the events that had led him to this place high above the city Bruce had made him swear to protect.

The communicator buzzed even more, indicating that the member on monitor duty in the satellite had upgraded the priority of the signal. His mind quickly picked out a name from the duty roster and he remembered it was the android hero, Red Tornado. He was unable of panicking and if he had increased the severity of the alert, then it really must have been a problem.

But was it his problem? Didn't he have enough on his plate right now? A foot moved closer to the edge and he sniffed the air, inhaling air that he had been breathing for most of his life. The years in Bludhaven had not spoiled his love for this city, but love for a place was not enough to make him want to stay here.

How many jumpers had he talked down in his life? How many times had he told them there was always something to live for? All he had was the guilt of the past and the pain of the future. It seemed like an eternity in hell was a small price to pay to get away from that.

"Nightwing," Red Tornado's voice said sternly. He had used the voice override and that meant the highest possible priority. The world was probably ending. Nightwing stepped back from the edge. Maybe he had something to look forward to.

"Here," the hero said, knowing the sensitive microphone would pick up his voice even over the howling of the wind. He felt the tingle as the transport beam was directed over his body, relayed by the signal in his communicator. His body was broken down into its basic molecular components and he wondered what would happen if the beam was interrupted. His atoms would be scattered over the entire planet and he would never know it.

He was smiling when he rematerialized in the transport chamber of the Justice league headquarters. It quickly vanished as the sound of the alarm klaxon echoed through the vast complex. The satellite was the second such headquarters of the League, this one built with money contributed by several of the more prominent former and current members. The League had moved here after the legality of maintaining an "American" base on the moon was brought before the World Court.

Now Nightwing briskly walked towards the monitor room where the Red Tornado would be contacting the rest of the 8-member team. Once they were all assembled, the Tornado would brief them on the situation and it would be up to Nightwing to come up with a plan of action. Leadership came naturally to him, but it was a heavy burden to bear. Once he put on the hat of chairman, he had to act a certain way and hide what he felt lest he expose the younger members to his melancholy. At least that was what he told himself; the truth was he was too embarrassed to come out and just say he hated his life. 

He walked into the monitor room to find Wonder Woman already there. She didn't look up when he entered but continued to look at one of the auxiliary monitors. As deputy leader, she took her responsibilities seriously and the fact that she was willing to follow his lead, considering she had the most time with the League, should have told him something about himself. He didn't dwell on such things. He liked Wonder Woman well enough, but whenever he was around her, he was reminded of poor Donna, her twin sister. Had it really been that many years since she died? It was almost as if his whole life had been left somewhere in the past and he was in constant state of denial. His body and mind were here in the present, but his heart and soul were somewhere back there.

"Is everything alright, Nightwing?" Red Tornado asked as he stepped up behind the League chairman. It was incredible how someone made of a metallic composite could move so silently. It reminded Nightwing briefly of the times when Batman had done the same thing. That had been a long time ago as well.

Seven years to be exact.

Nightwing's persona switched from true to false and he nodded his head. "I'm fine, Reddy," he replied. The sound of approaching voices told him some of the other members were arriving. Impulse and Green Lantern to be exact.

Impulse was Bart Allen, the grandson of Barry Allen, the second Flash. Wally West, the man who had succeeded Allen, had helped train Bart to become the hero he was today. As the fastest man alive, Bart was a perfect successor to Wally, Nightwing's best friend. At least Wally was still alive and well, too busy to super-hero because he was taking care of his seven children.

Green Lantern was only the latest in a series of persons to wield a power ring and an attitude that came with it. Nightwing had not even bothered to get to know this one, a young man barely out of high school who still had not shared his secret identity with the team. In the past, it was practically a requirement, but Nightwing had relaxed that rule upon Green Lantern's request. Apparently he was shy about who he really was.

It was all absurd, Nightwing considered as the two men entered the room. Costumes. Secrets. The endless battles. What good was it when you couldn't save yourself or the ones you loved? It was like Alfred used to say; if you hung around evil long enough it started to rub off on you.

He noticed that Wonder Woman had looked up from what she was doing and was looking at him. She was telepathic and he wondered if she could pick up his thoughts. In a way, he secretly hoped she did, because she would be forced to request he step down, possibly even leave the League. Then there would be no more responsibility.

If she had read his dark thoughts she said nothing and he knew she wouldn't. Again he pushed back his personal agenda and turned his attention to the situation at hand. He asked Red Tornado to explain the priority alert.

"We have received a request for aid from the Titans," he explained. "However, I have been unable to pinpoint their signal." The Titans were another group of heroes, made of mostly of younger and inexperienced adventurers. Both Nightwing and Impulse had both been part of the Titans at various times in their careers. "It simply cut out."

Nightwing straightened at that. The Titans used devices similar to those employed by the members of the Justice League to communicate and keep them accounted for. The designs were based upon a combination of advanced Earth technology and Martian science. The Martian Manhunter, a sometime member of the League had helped develop them. They relied on a special global positioning system that had yet to be beaten by anything on Earth. "Where was the last known transmission from?"

"That is the true anomaly," Red Tornado said. He walked over to the monitor Wonder Woman had been reading from. He pointed to the map of the Earth, laid out in two-dimensions. There were several red dots glowing. "These are all from the same device. It belongs to Kid Marvel."

"Christ," Green Lantern said, leaning in closer. "He's not that fast is he?"

Impulse shook his head. "I'm not that fast," he said. Nightwing knew it was a lie but said nothing. One of the things he had learned about leading a team of individual heroes was to let them speak their minds. It was not something the Batman had been a big fan of when he had been in training.

"We need to go to Titans Tower first," Nightwing announced. "It's the easiest place to look for anyone."

Wonder Woman agreed and suggested that she and Red Tornado continue to monitor the map to see if a pattern emerged. "We can send Impulse if we discern one," she said. Nightwing agreed and told Green Lantern to come with him. "And find out where Copy Cat is," he ordered as he and the Emerald Warrior moved to the transporter room.

Standing on a disk made of green energy, Nightwing flew next to Green Lantern towards Titans Tower in New York City. Standard protocol indicated that they talk an indirect route to the building in the event some sort of super-villain was roaming about on the grounds. It was better to fight out in the open than in close quarters.

Nightwing looked down at his feet and at the small circle that held him aloft. He closed his eyes, seeing if he could maintain his balance, hoping he would just fall over. An accident; he would simply fall and then it would be over. He will have paid. He will have made up for what he had done.

For what he had not done as well.

They passed over a small cemetery, Green Lantern trying to make small talk with his leader, but Nightwing only grunted, vaguely aware of his teammate. He gazed at the graves, wondering what the story behind each one was, counting the gravestones, and marking each tragedy. At least they were free, he said, free of the hell that had been created here on Earth. His vision began to blur and he realized his eyes were starting to fill with water as they often did when he let his guard down.

"You okay, boss?" Green Lantern asked.

Nightwing turned his head away. "Could you put up a windshield?" he said, making a convenient excuse. Excuses were his life now; every day when he got up he had an excuse for not simply ending it. The cat needed fed. His favorite show was on. The world needed saving. He assigned too much importance to himself and it was all a joke.

He hated that word: joke.

He hated thinking it. He hated remembering it. It brought all of the pain to the surface and allowed it to boil away at the remaining bits of his sanity. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Nobody answered, nobody cared about his sorrow or the guilt he felt. Why should he?

"There it is," Green Lantern said.

Again, the leader moved into position in Nightwing's mind. "Set us down at the very edge of Titan's Island," he commanded. The headquarters of the Titans was located on a small island within a lake in Central Park. The two heroes dropped to the ground and immediately they could smell the putrid odor of burnt flesh.

The Titans had a member called the Human Bomb, the young daughter of former member Damage. When she used her powers, it left a particular scent on the air. There was something odd to this particular smell and Nightwing cautiously approached the T-shaped building. He could remember picnic lunches on this lawn but he could also recount several battles in which he nearly lost his life. He was not surprised that the feeling he used to get in his stomach whenever he thought about all of the close shaves he had in his life was no longer there.

"It's too quiet," Green Lantern whispered and Nightwing had to admit the kid was right. The Titans borrowed a lot of their equipment from the Justice League and that had included a state-of-the art security system. There should have been an alarm blaring. "Want me to go high?"

Nightwing shook his head. "I don't want us to separate until I know what we are dealing with," he said. He wasn't afraid for himself, but he was still evaluating the new Lantern and did not want to make a mistake with him. Mistakes got people killed.

He stopped in mid-stride as several dark memories boiled up. He swallowed and pushed them back down into the pit of his stomach so he could proceed. "We stick together, okay?" Green Lantern agreed and the two approached the front door to the Titan's headquarters. The scent was stronger here and a casual glance through the glass told them why.

"Oh, God," Green Lantern said, turning to vomit into the grass. Inside on the floor were the smoking remains of what had once been a teenaged girl. It wasn't the Human Bomb, though, and Nightwing quickly examined the scene through the glass. He needed to make a check of the door to make sure it wasn't wired with a booby-trap before he could step inside but that did not stop him from trying to figure out who he was looking at. After several seconds he came to realize that it was Robin.

He tried to feel some remorse, but the truth was he hardly knew the girl. She wasn't even from Gotham City but was instead a native of Los Angeles who had developed a case of hero worship for the many incarnations of the Teen Wonder. She had not been particularly skilled, but she had been big on heart.

He remembered her several times trying to break through his shell, to try and get to know him and he now regretted their last conversation when he told her that she was living up to a failed legacy. Then he cursed, realizing that he would have to tell Bruce about this Robin being dead. How many did that make now? He should have broken her legs or something; stolen her costume. Maybe he should have told her parents? "Now there's a novel damn idea, Grayson," he told himself.

Two minutes later he was inside. Green Lantern, still visibly shaken, remained with the body and called in the report to the satellite. Red Tornado relayed back that Impulse was now on-planet and trying to catch up to Kid Marvel. Nightwing took the information and walked away, heading for the upper levels. Like the League, the Titans always kept someone on monitor duty and if there had been trouble, the call would have gone out from there.

When he got to the monitor room he found the Human Bomb, or at least half of her. She had been cut in two pieces except the bottom part of her body was no place to be found. He looked at her face and found it strangely twisted. He supposed that the pain of being cut in two would do it, but without the other part of her to indicate how it was done, he could not be sure. She looked as if she were petrified with fear. He supposed that was to be expected.

Fifteen minutes later he rejoined Green Lantern in the lobby. The Emerald Gladiator had used his power ring to pick up Robin's remains and put them inside a green energy casket. Nightwing wanted to admonish him about disturbing evidence and the importance of a crime scene, but then he thought better of it. Green Lantern was not immune to the natural human reaction to a mutilated corpse; it was best to not spoil that. Let him keep his innocence, Nightwing thought to himself; it may serve him well in the future.

His communicator buzzed and he picked it up. "Nightwing."

There was the sound of wind blowing and Impulse started to shout on the other end. "I'm in the damned Artic! I finally found a piece of Kid Marvel. It's his arm…"

"Understood. Collect the remains and bring them to the satellite for autopsy," Nightwing order. He changed channels to the satellite. "Any word on Copy Cat?"

There was a pause and then a strangely seductive voice spoke. "Here, glorious leader; I suppose I'm elected for doctor duty again?"

"This isn't the time to joke around," he said. "We've got three dead teenagers, killed violently. The Titans has a membership of nine members. Do I need to say any more?"

"Nightwing, this is Green Arrow."

"Go ahead, Cissie," he said. Green Arrow rounded out the League membership and was, next to Wonder Woman, probably the first person Nightwing would ever turn to for advice. A reluctant hero, she was the illegitimate daughter of the original hero she took her name from.

"Sorry to be late," she apologized. It was very unusual for her not to report to a priority signal, unlike Copy Cat who seemed to relish at being late for everything. "I'm in the League jet right now flying to Vancouver. There is a report on the local RCMP band that several costumed kids just fell from out of the sky into a campground."

Nightwing acknowledged the call and changed back to Impulse's channel, directing him to meet Green Arrow in Canada. Impulse relied he was already there and explained the situation. "It's the rest of the Titans, all right. Or at least, pieces of them. God, boss, they've been torn to pieces."

"I understand," Nightwing said. He shook his head and told Green Lantern to go on ahead without him. He needed to reset the Tower security system and see if he could find the surveillance digital data chips.

When Green Lantern was gone, Nightwing stood in the middle of the lobby and wondered what he had gotten himself into. It was his job to find out, a job he didn't want and a job he sure as hell didn't deserve. He just wanted to go curl up into a ball and wait for it all to be over. This was a job for a hero, not him.

He wasn't a hero. He was just someone standing on the edge of a darkness that wanted to swallow him. The funny part was he wanted that to happen. "Damn you, Bruce," he said before snapping back into reality and heading back upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Copy Cat stood at the doorway to the medical center of the satellite, her hands on her slender hips. She chewed on her lower lip, craving a cigarette before starting, but she didn't really have the time to go all of the way to the top of the headquarters to step into the small closet that was the designated smoking area. She was the first League member, according to Wonder Woman, to smoke cigarettes, though Copy Cat had it good authority that the original Green Arrow had a habit of smoking things other than tobacco.

The fact that she smoked put her in the lower ten percentile of the world's population. At ten dollars a pack and no smoking areas everywhere, it was not a habit worth picking up. It wasn't exactly her fault, though; she had uploaded a program for a former boyfriend that had altered her personality from her normal "sweet" self to something a little sluttier. Along with the program came an addiction to nicotine.

She always intended to delete the program from her processor, but it always came in so handy when she was out hitting the clubs. Before the upload, she had difficulty approaching men. Now she was the life of the party and she figured she only lived once, so why not live hard? "Let's get going," Nightwing said over the loudspeaker.

Copy Cat sighed and pulled out here data collection, selecting the program that would turn her into a S.T.A.R. Labs worthy scientist and inserted the small metallic ball into her wrist interface. A few moments later, the knowledge and experience imprinted within the ball was uploaded into her brain. She quickly moved to the tables and began a cursory examination of the remains of the Teen Titans.

Two hours later she stepped out of the medical center to meet with the rest of the team. All seemed anxious to hear her findings. Nightwing stepped forward. "Well?"

"All of them, except Robin, were torn apart," Copy Cat said. Impulse told her that her discovery wasn't anything new and that they had already known that. "I also found evidence of severe freezing on the limbs that were recovered. Wherever these kids were, it was damn cold. Outer space cold."

Wonder Woman shook her head. "That is impossible. We tracked Kid Marvel all over the globe. He was physically on the planet. The signal would have indicated if he were in orbit."

Red Tornado nodded his agreement. "I concur. However, there are many enemies of the League and the Titans, as well as their individual members, that employ cryogenics in their mode of operation." He paused for a moment as he accessed the Justice League computer via his wireless link. "Records indicate that the newest Mr. Freeze is no longer incarcerated at Arkham Asylum."

Nightwing shook his head at the idea and explained that there was no way it was Mr. Freeze. "Freeze steals, he doesn't kill. He has a code against killing." Copy Cat snorted and Nightwing asked her if there was a problem. "I seem to remember that some of our former members had a code like that as well."

Nightwing narrowed his eyes. "If you have as problem with the prior membership of the League, go ahead and say it so we can move on. You're damn lucky to be here."

Copy Cat threw her head back and laughed. She and Nightwing had never gotten along very well and she had been one of the members that had voted against his election to the chair of the team. She didn't need to put in any special program to hold her own against the older hero. "Please. You might be leader, but you don't have the votes to kick me out and you know it!"

"Wendy…" 

The scarlet-haired member ignored Wonder Woman's warning. "You're damn lucky to have me here, buddy. Most of the good heroes refuse to serve under you because of your old man."

Nightwing stepped forward, but Wonder Woman put an arm out to block him. "No, let him through, Diana. The only reason he's on this team is to make up for old Pointy-Ear's mistakes!" Copy Cat handed a small hand-held computer to Green Arrow. "Here is my report. I'm going to go shower and then go get drunk."

"You're not dismissed," Nightwing told her.

"What do you want me to do, oh glorious leader? The only lead we have you're convinced isn't it because you say he doesn't kill." She shook her head. "If you were such a good judge of character, then maybe Batman wouldn't be…"

"That's enough!" Wonder Woman snapped. For the last several weeks she had to be the mediator as the two team members came close to trading blows. She could not understand why Copy Cat resented Nightwing so much, but it was obvious she did. Perhaps it was his legacy and the entire affair with the Batman seven years before. It had been a devastating blow to the entire super-hero community and apparently it still stung some people. "This is the Justice League, not a high school debate team!"

 Nightwing took a deep breath and back up a step, sensing the tension in the air. This had been the closest he and Copy Cat had come to swinging and he hated to admit it, but she was right. Ever since he had become the leader of the League, they had been receiving less and less cooperation from other hero organizations. If not for Wonder Woman and Impulse, he doubted anyone would have anything to do with them.

And it all went back to Bruce and the events of seven years before, back when it had all happened and his life ended. Copy Cat was merely the voice of the majority of heroes that looked at him as being part of the problem. He wanted to just walk away, to quit the League and concentrate on the things he felt were more important, such as jumping off buildings and tempting fate. But he couldn't; Bruce had made him promise to carry on the legacy until the day he died. "Wonder Woman is correct, but you need to remember that I'm the leader of the League," Nightwing said, pointing a finger at Copy Cat. "We have dead heroes here, kids, and it won't do any good to go out and get drunk."

"Oh, I'm sure there are other more destructive distractions I could find, wouldn't you agree?" Copy Cat said with a slight smile. Nightwing turned his head towards Wonder Woman and he didn't like what he saw.

Six hours later he rolled out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. His figure and form were that of a man twenty years younger; his attitude was that of man consigned to the grave. Physically he could have passed for the man of his youth, if not for the crow's feet now around his eyes. His chest hair was filled with gray now as well, but nobody seemed to mind.

A figure stirred under the covers and he turned to watch a blonde head pop up. She had a large smile on her face, but she often did after they made love. He didn't understand her attraction to him for she had so much else in her life, and he knew he should have resisted her charms. It was unfair to say that she forced herself upon him all of those months ago, but she did initiate their relationship. "That was fun; I like it when you're all riled up. Gets the blood pumping."

"I'm getting too old to be arguing with youngsters," Nightwing replied as he reached for the aspirin on the nightstand. He kept a bottle in every room of Wayne Manor so that he didn't have far to go for headache relief. The aspirin was his only companion besides his little "wiener-dog" named Batmite, who was snoring in his bed in the corner. The romps in the bedroom had ceased to be a source of wonder for the small dog.

"Not to old to roll in the hay with them, though," she said as she pushed the covers away to exhibit her bare body. She was in better shape than he was, with a flat torso and the breasts every woman had before giving birth. She was flawless, except for a few scars here and there from the various battles she had been in over the years. "Ready for some more, handsome?"

He shook his head. Sex was nothing more than a distraction to him now. In years before, it had been the pinnacle of a worthy pursuit and he could list each and every conquest and how much he had enjoyed them. Before this woman, he had never engaged in sexual activity with a woman he had no intention of marrying. Well, except the Huntress, but that had cost him when he had broken it off with her. She still hounded him about that. "Cissie, I'm old, I need rest."

"You're about to turn forty. My father was nearly your age when I was born," she said.

That wasn't exactly true and he knew it. Green Arrow, the original, had fathered many children starting from his mid-twenties. Over the past three decades he had parented two members of the Justice League and adopted a member of the Titans. Cissie, who now operated under her father's name, was thirty and had nursed a crush on Nightwing since her days as Arrowette.

In those days she was unaware that her father had been Oliver Queen, a sometime hero with a penchant for chasing blondes, redheads and brunettes. It was only in the past few years that her mother had revealed the truth of her biological origins. Queen, for his part, was as supportive as he was with any of children, which meant he had offered to get drunk with her on a few occasions. 

Nightwing thought that maybe she was attracted to him because she desired a father figure in her life, but he hoped it wasn't the case. It made him feel weird. "I think Copy Cat knows about us," Nightwing said.

"I think Copy Cat wants you for herself," Cissie said with a laugh. She stretched and yawned and then patted the bed next to her. "Come on and lay down."

"I doubt it would be relaxing," he replied.

"Oh, but it would be so much fun," she said as she sat up on her knees. He remembered when he was so flexible. His knees had been the one part of his body that had been truly showing his age of late. "I wouldn't worry about old Wendy."

"Why not?"

"She's one of these new heroes that wants to make a reputation for herself early on. She didn't have the benefit of being part of a team while her powers developed," Cissie said as she reached down for her underwear.

"Her powers never developed; they were forced upon her by H.I.V.E.," Nightwing reminded her. "She might have some resentment."

Cissie shrugged and started to dress. "Maybe she was talking about your attitude."

"What about my attitude?" he said as he turned and folded his arms over his chest. Her eyes moved down below his waist and she smiled and he accepted the boxers she threw at him.

"Something has been steadily bothering you, Dick," she explained. "I know you won't let me in, even though I want you to."

"You don't need to be that close."

She stopped and pursed her lips, deciding if now was the best time to tell him. If he continued to sink further into the darkness, then she wondered how the news would affect him. "I'm pregnant."

His heart fell into his stomach and slowly began to dissolve in the acid that was building up. "You took a birth control shot…"

"It wore off, Dick; they aren't one hundred percent effective. Remember, I come from a long line of breeders," she said as she buckled her bra. 

"You don't want to have my baby," he said turning around and looking into the mirror. He had accepted a long time ago he would never have children especially after what had happened. 

"Actually I do, Dick, and I will," she said matter-of-factly. She could tell he wasn't happy at all and she somewhat sympathized with him. While she did not know the exact details of his entire life, as they spent most of their time together in the bedroom, she suspected that she was seeing the climax of a seven-year depression. She halfway thought he might be suicidal. "And it isn't like you have the real problem here."

"I know," he replied, holding his hands up. "I know, damn it!" He couldn't believe that after all of this time, after Donna, Kory, Barbara…"Barbara," he whispered and once again the demons swooped in to attack him at his weakest time. He wondered if Cissie had heard him, but she didn't seem to have by the way she continued the conversation.

"I didn't plan this, Dick, but it's here and you need to deal with it. Tell me what's wrong," she said, reaching out as best as she could. He didn't respond, or maybe he couldn't respond. She wondered how deep the scars ran in his soul. She was carrying his child and he was acting like she had the devil growing in her womb. "You don't want me to get rid of it, do you?"

He wanted to say yes; it would make things so much simpler. He couldn't be a father now or ever. Being a father meant more responsibility than he could handle. He would have to be like…Bruce. "God damn it!" he said, smashing his fist on the nightstand. In earlier years, such a blow would not bother him but now his hand was starting to hurt. 

He turned towards Cissie, who was now in full costume minus the mask. He saw the horror in her eyes and realized his mistake. He stepped towards her and she fell into his arms sobbing. "I don't want you to get rid of it, of course not. I just don't think…this really isn't the best situation."

She nodded and he felt her hot tears running down onto his shoulder. They burned like holy water on a vampire. He wished he could say he loved Cissie, for God knew she was a wonderful woman. They had a lot in common besides the need to tumble in the sheets every other day. They had both been super-heroes for a long time and both had at least one demanding and controlling parent.

She stepped back and wiped her nose on her glove. It reminded her of something she was missing and she pulled it off her left hand. "Can you hand me my rings?"

He nodded and reached behind him to get the diamond ring and wedding band she wore when not in his bed. "What are you going to tell Bart?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, Dick. What do I tell him? That I never loved him? That I settled for him because he was a nice guy? God, why did you let him on the team?"

"Wally was busy," he snapped. He needed a drink and he started to walk out of the room. "Come on, Batmite, time to get papa his special medicine." Cissie followed behind him, scooping up her bow and quiver at the door. "I want in, Dick."

"I know you do."

"Is wasn't your fault."

He laughed at the absurdity of the thought. Of course it had been his fault! But that wasn't the way history would show it and that was what ate at him every day. "You want a drink before you go?"

"I'm pregnant."

"I'll drink one for you then," he said as they entered the library. He moved over to the small bar and poured a double shot of whiskey. He downed it in one swallow, savoring the burn. "When are you telling him?"

"I don't know that either," she admitted. She had fantasized that the idea of having a child together would snap him out of his funk and bring back the hero she had idolized as a teenager. She had dreams of him sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her away to some country she could file for divorce in and get remarried in a single day. 

A small red light illuminated on the top of the bar and he reached down for a small headpiece. "Nightwing here, go ahead Commissioner Braniff," he said.

He nodded his head and engaged in a brief conversation before signing off. "Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?"

"Copy Cat has been sighted downtown, heading into territory run by Mr. Freeze's gang," he said. "I doubt she'll answer the Justice League transmitter so we'll have to go get her." He then considered her condition. "No, scratch that, you aren't going."

"What?"

"You're pregnant!"

"And I'm not your wife…"

"No, you're Impulse's and what I don't need is you and that child clouding my judgment or his. You're on temporary leave as of now." She started to protest and he held up a hand. "I have a responsibility to the League as well as to my child and to you." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to say the things he wanted to. How long had it been since he had been honest with someone?

Seven years.

"The League cannot be compromised for anyone," he said. It was a half-truth. He jeopardized it every day with his own actions. "If you were chairman, you would make the same decision and you know it."

"Fine." She turned and started to walk towards the doorway. She then stopped and turned around. "I'm in love with you, you know that? But you are so damned stubborn! It was seven years ago, Dick, seven years! You couldn't save any of them but that doesn't make it your fault."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"Justice was served, Dick! You didn't kill the Joker, Bruce did and now he's the one in Blackgate. Why do you act like you're the one who's condemned?"

"Not condemned, damned is more appropriate," he said as he walked up to her. Her bottom lip trembled as he stood there and he realized just how beautiful she really was. If his heart worked, he could fall in love with her, but she deserved so much better. It was too bad she had to carry his child. Undoubtedly his taint would infect both the fetus and her. 

He wondered how he could have been so stupid. 

He reached out and grabbed her chin and pulled it up before kissing her. He enjoyed her taste, the taste of a woman that was not his to have; forbidden fruit. It was all part of the self-destructive attitude. She pushed against him, hoping that this was the kiss that would tell her his heart was hers.

It was a good kiss, she decided as she pulled away, but not that good. He saw the look in her eyes and he wanted to say something, anything to give her hope. He wanted to say "I love you, too," but he couldn't. Besides the physical attraction and the comradeship that came from being teammates, he just didn't have it in him. She knew it, but despite her best judgment, she was going to settle for it.

"I'll have myself put on inactive reserve status. Bart will have a cow, but it was bound to come out sooner or later," she said before turning around to leave. "I'll be moving out of my house this week."

Just as she got to the door he called to her and she stopped. He quickly ran over to her. "You can move in here," he said and she happily accepted the compromise. By the time she had driven off, he was dressed in his costume and checking his utility belt. He didn't know why he had offered to let her move in, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

He chuckled when he thought about it, that he had finally done something worthy of praise. Then a demon laughed in the back of his mind, reminding him that this was temporary joy because his tainted soul would only bring her misery, just as it had everyone else.


	3. Chapter 3

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Nightwing looked up at the skyscrapers, silhouetted against the night sky and at the rooftops he used to jump from. In the last year or so, he found himself wheezing just a little harder and he avoided the heights now when he really didn't have to be up there. It gave him an excuse to drive the Batmobile as well and tonight he needed the horsepower of the turbine motors to get him into downtown as soon as possible.

The conversation with Cissie had gone better than he had thought it would. He wished she wasn't pregnant, wished that there was some way to go back in time and just stop the whole affair. What was done was done. At least that was what Bruce had said seven years before.

He decided now was definitely not the time to dwell on the mistakes of the past and he ordered the dark spirits that whispered into his ear to shut up and tighten their seat belts. He gunned the engine and inhaled deeply the smell of petroleum fumes. The Batmobile was one of only a handful of vehicles permitted to burn fossil fuels on the road today and that was only because Bruce Wayne had bribed so many politicians before he had gone to jail. The Wayne money now permeated the state legislature and it was the number one reason why he had been able to plead to second-degree manslaughter. 

"Only eight more years and he's a free man," Nightwing whispered to himself. Eight more years of running around in the costume, continuing the mission his foster-father had started nearly three decades before.

Bruce Wayne had witnessed his parent's murder, watched as they were shot in the dark by a common street thug. In their blood, which pooled at his feet, he changed, became baptized in pain. For the next thirteen years he trained himself to physical and intellectual perfection. Many who knew him stated that he should have concentrated on the emotional as well. Bruce Wayne had turned into a man incapable of feeling anything but a need for revenge until he felt fear. 

A large bat had crashed through the bay window of the library in Wayne Manor and had frightened him. In that moment, Bruce had realized that the bat could strike terror not only in him, but also in criminals, whom he considered nothing but cowards. He fashioned a costume and slipped himself into the role of the Batman, a role that consumed his life.

Not very long after becoming the Batman, Bruce Wayne experienced a second emotion, pity. While attending a Haley Circus show in Gotham City, Bruce had, along with the entire crowd, gazed in horror as the rigging snapped and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths. Bruce leapt over the barricade meant to hold the population back and pushed through the circus workers. He didn't head for the bodies, but instead rushed to scoop up young Richard Grayson, the ten-year-old boy who had watched in stunned silence as his parents were murdered. Later it would be determined that gangsters had damaged the rigging so that it would break and Bruce had watched as the little boy became consumed with the hate and hurt that had defined his own life.

To his credit, Bruce tried to be a good father. His problem was that he simply did not know how. He could not express his true emotions because he had never been taught how. He had tried to be a man after his parents had died and he had succeeded to well. As time went on, Bruce and Richard could not relate and the tension between them was more than that normally seen between father and son. Through it all, however, there still remained a feeling of love.

Nightwing had always loved his foster-father, even when he didn't think he loved him back. He gripped the throttle control a little harder as he realized that he now knew exactly how much Bruce had cared for him. When he looked back at his life overall, when he came to understand that Bruce had let him become Robin, to be the first person to truly be let into his heart it made the guilt he that he lived with so much more painful.

He turned a corner and came to a stop. His eyes were watering again and he felt the gnawing in his gut that only alcohol would sate. There would be time to drink later; he needed to deal with his wayward teammate at the moment. She had willfully disobeyed his direct order that Mr. Freeze was not to be touched. It was time she came to Jesus he told himself.

Copy Cat gripped the tube that went from the backpack to the facemask of Mr. Freeze and pulled him closer. Her martial arts program, based upon the skills of the second Green Arrow and the third Batgirl, had allowed her to plow through the thugs and heavyweights. Only Freeze had remained and now he was unable to defend himself against his foe. "Leave me alone!" he said, his breathing getting harder and harder. There was real fear in his eyes as she started to squeeze.

"I'm Justice League, I don't have to leave you alone," she said with a wicked grin. She slowly reached her free hand down to her secondary input and pressed the third button. A small injector located at the base of her spine injected her with a small amount of synthetic Venom, a drug that increased strength.

Originally used by the villain Bane, it was now available for the right price in a reduced concentration. Copy Cat liked to use it whenever she ran an interrogation program. Perps respected strength and not strength of character. "Now, I'm going to ask you again, scumbag, why did you kill the Titans?"

"I've never killed anyone!" Mr. Freeze gasped. "I only steal in order to buy the drugs and equipment I need to stay alive!"

Copy Cat head butted him, cracking his goggles. A small mist of frozen air started to escape. "You and I obviously have a communication problem," Copy Cat said, smiling. She shoved Mr. Freeze back and he stumbled into a wall. "When I tell you to give me an answer, then your job is to give it to me. I'm a lady that likes it fast and with no complaints, get it?"

"You're insane!" Freeze sputtered as he tried to get back up. His hose had come loose from his backpack and he kept twisting to try and reseal it. Copy Cat walked up and kicked him hard in the ribs and he fell back into the wall. "Leave me alone!" he begged again.

"You bastard! You get off on killing children?" she asked, kicking him in the knee he had left exposed. He howled in pain and grabbed it. There were tears in his eyes now and his mask was fogging up. 

She took another step forward, intent on beating him some more when something whirled by her head and stuck into the wall. She quickly looked to see one of the shuriken that Nightwing was known to employ. "You don't belong here," Nightwing said.

"Go home, old man," she said without turning back around. Instead she reached out for Freeze and he tried to back away. "Come here," she said. 

Nightwing landed behind her with a hard thud. "I told you not to come here. Leave him alone. He's a thief, not a murderer." Nightwing looked around the warehouse at all of the boxes and crates of stolen material. It was quite a cache of ill-gotten goodies and he silently berated himself for not being more attentive about the "petty" crimes going on in Gotham City. He had been spending way too much time worrying about League business. "He's under arrest for theft and dealing stolen goods, but he isn't a murderer."

She whirled around to face him, her breathing fierce. He recognized the signs; she was injecting herself with more Venom. There was even a chance she was addicted to it, but he somehow doubted it. If she were, it would have been a piece of cake to kick her off of the League. "Like you would be able to recognize a murderer when you saw one!"

"If your problem is with me, then deal with me. Regardless, you disobeyed a direct order not to pursue Mr. Freeze," Nightwing said, casting a glance at the villain. He was busy repairing his equipment and was otherwise too preoccupied to get away. 

"You aren't fit to give me orders!" she cried. She took a long step towards him and pointed her finger in his direction. "You aren't a real hero."

"And why is that? Why is it that you hate me so much?"

"Because a hero is supposed to go after the bad guys, but you refused to go after the Batman when he killed the Joker. It should have been you, but it was Superman instead." She started to laugh. "And now the League coddles you like you're a baby with a boo-boo!"

"The situation was a lot more complicated than that…"

"Shut up! How in the hell does someone who plays favorites with murderers get elected as the chairman of the Justice League of America?" Nightwing could hear the Venom pump starting up again and he watched as her biceps started to expand. She was also growing taller. 

And a part of him could understand her rage. From his late teens, Nightwing had struggled to establish his identity as being separate from that of the Batman. In order to do that, he had to move away from the darkness that had seemed to personify his former mentor. Nightwing was supposed to be above reproach. He had been leader of the Titans, had been recommended to the League by Superman himself. 

Yet he had not pursued the Batman when the Joker had been murdered. He couldn't, but she would never understand why. 

His thoughts had put him off-guard and she growled. Before he could return his mind's eye to the situation at hand, she had already started the haymaker that sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and grabbed his jaw. There were some loose teeth, but nothing seemed broken. "You're asking for a world of trouble, Wendy."

"It's time you and I settled this," she said, cracking her neck. 

He nodded as he started to get up. "Yes it is, but we're going to do it the right way."

"Let's go!"

"Fine. You're suspended from the League," he said as he brushed his uniform off. "You can't hit the team leader and get away with it." She replied by leaping at him and deep inside he knew that he had been egging her on. Only a fool baits someone over pumped on Venom.

It was suicide he thought as they went down in a tumble. She punched him hard in the ribs and he gave back as much as he could. They wrestled for a few moments and he managed to get a leg up and pushed her away from him. She recovered quickly and came screaming back at him, her martial arts programming buried beneath pure rage.

Since they had first started working together on the team, Nightwing had guessed that Copy Cat had not liked him very much. He always assumed it had to do with something in his past, but he had never imagined that because he had not been the one to capture Batman that it would generate harsh feelings. But then again, if he was supposed to be a hero, wasn't he supposed to pursue all criminals?

If she could only understand just how complex the entire situation was now and then. If she only understood how much he wished she would just punch through his skull and end it all now. By reflex, he blocked a punch and then delivered a palm strike to her breastbone. It was like striking concrete.

She brought up a ham fist, like a hammer ready to strike a nail, and brought it down in a titanic swing that seemed to draw the air out of the room. It smashed into his shoulder and he felt it dislocate. He went down on one knee and used his unhurt arm to grab one of his battle staves. As Copy Cat brought her hand up again, he cracked her knees with the weapon.

Unfortunately, her joints had been replaced with metal, he remembered as she hit him again and he flattened onto the ground. His stave went flying and ended up under a car. "Get up!" she bellowed.

He didn't want to; instead he concentrated on the cold concrete floor. He could taste the oil and sawdust in the air and he wondered if it was the last thing he would ever taste. Had he ever considered what the last thing he would taste would be?

No other blow came and instead Copy Cat started to stumble back. "Damn it!" she cried out. Nightwing dared to look up and saw she was pulling a shaft out of her arm. There were a couple of sparks, indicating that the cybernetic wiring just under her skin had been punctured. It had to be either a crossbow quarrel or an arrow shot at close range to get through her Kevlar-impregnated skin. 

He picked up a twanging sound and he knew immediately what was going on. Copy Cat cried out again, only her voice was more feminine this time. Nightwing rolled over onto his back, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Up above him stood a woman in black and purple leathers. She had the figure of a teenager and the eyes of someone a million years old. The woman was busy reloading her crossbow from a pouch on her utility belt, an idea she had borrowed from the Batman. "Hi, Helena," Nightwing mumbled.

The Huntress did not answer immediately, but instead fired the Venom-antidote quarrel into Copy Cat, who was becoming more and more passive with each second. By the time Copy Cat had sagged into a corner, completely drained from her Venom high, the Huntress had loosed five shots all together.

She clambered down from her perch and Nightwing, despite the pain, took the time to watch her graceful figure. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, on the outside and the inside. Over the years, especially since the Batman's arrest, the Huntress had become a calming influence in Gotham City. She had become a true champion of the weak and the helpless.

In their younger days, Nightwing and the Huntress used to play "hide the weasel" under the covers, more times than either one would admit to. She had been a real hothead at that time. Now she was no longer that same woman, but was instead a true guardian angel. "I should have married you when I had the chance," he coughed as she leaned over him.

Her smile brightened. "I did ask," she said as she checked his shoulder. He started to give one of his trademark smart responses when she popped his shoulder back into place. "I do so love hurting you," she said as she helped him up.

"I suppose I should say thank you," he managed to croak out. The pain in his shoulder would be with him for several days. He glanced over at the sleeping Copy Cat. "I can't imagine what came over her."

"You were goading her," the Huntress told him as she led him to a crate. "I heard it in your voice. What the hell is going on with you, Dick?"

He grimaced as she let go of him and he drooped his head. "It's League business."

"Then things have really changed since I was a member," she told him as she moved over to check on Copy Cat. After a few moments she nodded her head and pulled something off the woman's costume. "Her Venom pump got stuck."

"Doesn't matter," Nightwing said. "She's off of the team."

"That from the guy who wanted to give everyone a second chance," she replied as she walked back over and handed him the pump. "How's Bruce?"

"Haven't seen him," Nightwing told her. She asked if he was going to tell the former Batman about the death of the new Robin. "I'm sure he knows already. Even prison won't keep him from having his fingers in every pie he can find on the windowsill."

The Huntress nodded and he took a hard look at her. She was in fantastic shape, her hair still as dark as the night, her eyes as seductive as a melancholy melody. He knew what it was, her attitude. When she had first hit the seen, her face was always in a scowl, now she had to fight to keep from smiling. Married life did that to you and there was a dark laugh in the back of his mind. Nightwing had never married, never had the chance because Barbara had been killed.

She saw the look on his face. "What is it?"

He chuckled, something he wasn't prone to do very often. "I was thinking about how married life suits you." Two years before, three years after she had proposed to him, she had married a simple man, an accountant who had been a widower. That dose of normalcy had saved her, changed her and revitalized her.

"Like I said, you had your chance," she told him. There was not bitterness in her voice, but there was that slight hint of regret. He knew that when he had told her no, that he would not commit himself to her, that it had not been personal. She had reminded him too much of what he had already lost. 

If Dick Grayson were ever going to marry, he would now have to seek companionship outside the community of super-heroes. Yet, he was now fathering a child with a married member of the League. "I'm such a bastard," he mumbled.

"Don't look to me to disagree," the Huntress told him. They both laughed and each remembered the many fond moments that they had shared so many years before. "Dick, something is eating at you."

"I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just tired. This stuff with the Titans is getting to me."

She nodded. "You know, you can upgrade my reservist status; I'm willing to help," she offered. 

"I just might take you up on that," he told her as he stood up. His shoulder ached, but there was nothing he could do about it until after he finished his business with Copy Cat. He pulled out his communicator and Wonder Woman answered. He quickly explained the situation and requested a pick-up. The Amazon told him that the robotic recovery vehicle was on its way. "And Diana," he added before signing off, "Gather the team together for a meeting."


	4. Chapter 4

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

The Outsiders were originally formed by the Batman to combat a menace that the Justice League, for political reasons, refused to. He had taken several second-string and newbie heroes and mentored them into a fighting unit that had made him proud. Eventually, the original team had disbanded, only to be replaced by another. And then another. And finally there was the current one.

Based out of St. Louis the group was led by the former Titan, Arsenal. Membership included many of the newest generation of heroes, some very powerful, some not so powerful. They were a family, though, and Arsenal had taken a special interest in the team since his daughter had founded it. When Lian Harper had become pregnant (and after Arsenal had made the father marry his daughter by pointing out the severity of the ass-whippin' he would receive if he didn't), Arsenal had agreed to put on his old costume and take her place.

Being a super-hero again had been tough, mostly because his five years of inactivity had softened him and dulled his reflexes. The six-pack of muscles had long been traded in for a six-pack of beer and a cute little wife that also happened to be a wanted fugitive in most countries. But that was okay with him because it had still felt good to be in the middle of adventure again.

His years off duty had somehow made him forget about the bad part of being a super-hero; the fact that there were bad guys in costumes that wanted you dead. He had put behind him the deaths he had witnessed during his long career until this morning. This morning everything had changed.

He stepped over the bloodied and bruised form of the Ultimate Warrior, the true powerhouse of the team. An Iraqi national, he had been pointed to the Outsiders in an attempt to learn how to control his abilities. For over a year he had been training how to focus and increase his power, but all of it was moot now. He had been the first to fall before their foe, who had just appeared in the gymnasium of the headquarters.

Arsenal notched another arrow, this one a fire type, and fired in the general direction of his attacker, but all he did was manage to burn up a blood spatter that had been the Princess, the token babe of the Outsiders. She had been the second one to fall, her powers of illusion of no use against their enemy. Stumbling back, Arsenal ran down the passageway, knowing that he needed to get to the communications room to call for help.

He now understood what had happened to the Titans and it struck him cold to the core.

Sliding underneath some wires that had been torn from the ceiling, he just missed running headlong into the headless torso of Wee Willy, a young man who hoped to one day become the next Atom. The blood was no longer spurting out of it and Arsenal was thankful for that. He could still remember the youthful enthusiasm that the boy, barely out of his teens, had demonstrated every day. Arsenal could remember a time when he had been so excited to be wearing long underwear and saving lives.

The elevator wasn't working so the former partner of Green Arrow kicked open the fire door and started running up the stairs. The stairwell was filled with a thick smoke that had the flavor of burnt flesh and his stomach lurched. He did not want to see what awaited him above but a voice behind him prodded him.

"Come on, Roy," a voice from the grave called. "Don't be shy. I promise to make it painful."

Arsenal used the threat to put extra speed into his stride and he scrambled up the stairs. The smoke was unable to hide the carnage that had been reaped. Body parts were everywhere and they were all covered in so much blood and gore that he could not tell the color of the costumes. At least three members of the Outsiders had been gutted and quartered in this room. The speed by which their attacker had moved through the team was more than shocking; it was supernatural.

He quickly stepped over the corpses of his friends and made his way over to the large videophone. He hit the large button with the JLA logo on it. "This is Arsenal of the Outsiders…"

"I am going to have to consult with some of the reserve members about this," Wonder Woman said. Standing in front of her, Red Tornado, Impulse and Green Lantern, Nightwing nodded his head. "Because you are the one bringing the charges, but you have no second, I am not sure how we are to proceed with the court-martial."

"I understand," Nightwing said. As team leader, he was very familiar with the by-laws of the League. A motion to court-martial and subsequently remove a member had to be recommended by one member and seconded for a vote. As a court-martial was extremely rare, this particular situation had never occurred.

"Were you a charter member like myself," Wonder Woman continued, "then you could remove Copy Cat yourself without a trial." If Copy Cat had been a charter member a trial would have been required regardless of Nightwing's status. The Amazon princess looked to the other members sitting next to her. "I'm going to contact Superman and suggest we re-activate his membership. I already asked J'onn," she said, referring to the Martian Manhunter, "but he refused. He claims he had something more important to look into."

"I think Superman is the best choice," Nightwing said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I have read the Huntress' preliminary report," Wonder Woman began again, holding up a computer printout. "As a reserve member in good standing, her testimony is considered factual and true for the purposes of this meeting." Wonder Woman held the printout towards Nightwing, who moved towards it. "She states that Copy Cat's Venom pump was malfunctioning and that your baiting pushed her over the edge. While you technically were not at fault, the fact that her equipment incapacitated her should account for something. Are you sure you wish to pursue this course of action?"

"Yes," Nightwing said without reading the report. "Copy Cat violated a direct order and then struck a team member. That is inexcusable."

Wonder Woman nodded slowly and then adjourned the meeting. She got up and excused herself to go to the monitor room to contact Superman. Green Lantern and Red Tornado left to perform some maintenance on one of the rescue craft that left Nightwing alone with Impulse.

From the moment the young speedster had entered the meeting room, Nightwing had detected a great sadness coming from him. Normally jovial, Impulse was uncharacteristically quiet throughout Wonder Woman's interrogation of the team leader. Now that they were alone, it was obvious that he wanted to speak to Nightwing, but seemed unsure of how to approach him.

A million excuses ran through Nightwing's mind, a million reasons why he had betrayed a friend's trust. Part of his mind told him he was a bastard and the other half hoped that Impulse would hit him with a thousand punches in the blink of an eye. "I guess you know," Impulse said.

Nightwing did not immediately answer and Impulse took it as a cue to continue. "Cissie left me this morning."

"I see…"

The other hero pulled off his mask; his eyes were swollen, indicating not just a lack of sleep, but also that he had been crying. Nightwing recognized the look; he had seen it enough in the mirror. "I don't know what I did…she won't talk to me," Impulse blurted out.

"Bart, I really don't think I'm the one you should be talking to about this," Nightwing said, trying to figure out a way to remove himself from the situation. But that wasn't possible; he was in the middle of the whole thing even if Impulse did not realize it. "Maybe you should talk to some of your old Teen Titans buddies…"

Impulse shook his head. "I don't talk to any of them anymore. I think a lot of them resented the fact that Cissie and I got married. The two of us sort of graduated up to the League and the rest of them stayed sort of second string." He crushed his mask in his hand, the material disappearing in his fist. "Damn it! I knew something was bothering her, but I'm not too…swift when it comes to reading her."

"I wouldn't necessarily say it has anything to do with you, Bart," Nightwing offered as he turned around. He pretended to examine a copy of the original League charter that was encased in Plexiglas. He couldn't face the younger man. "Maybe the two of you have grown apart. Maybe the two of you need some space."

"It could be a lit of things, Dick," Impulse replied, "but unless she tells me, I won't ever know. All I know is that I woke up this morning and there was a note on her pillow. I don't even know where she is."

"And then she resigned from the League…"

"Yeah!" he agreed. Nightwing closed his eyes, damning himself for the role he was playing. Yet, he knew it was not his place to give Impulse the news that his wife was cheating on him and that the dirty, rotten home wrecker was his boss. Impulse, unaware that Nightwing was trying to blot him out, continued. "That's the other thing, too. Man, she loves being a member of the League! Leaving me I can see, but never the League! I can't imagine what could make her do that."

"Must be something important," Nightwing offered.

"I suppose," Impulse muttered. "But that was why I wanted to talk to you."

"Me?"

Impulse nodded. "She loves the League, loves being a hero and helping people. She also respects the hell out of you. As chairman, you know how to track her based on her genetic pattern. I know they are all entered into the computer…"

"I don't think that's a wise decision, Bart," Nightwing told him, slowly turning back to face him. "If she hasn't told you where she's gone, then chances are she doesn't want to be bothered."

"What if she's been kidnapped?"

Nightwing shook his head, indicating that he did not believe that to be the case. "If she had been taken, and I doubt anyone could do that without her putting up a fight, then there would be evidence to support that conclusion. She left you a note, Bart."

The other hero bit his bottom lip and suppressed the watering of his eyes. "I love her, Dick. I'm going nuts thinking I did something to hurt her. Please, won't you talk to her, try to convince her to at least let me know she's okay?"

He agreed too quickly, willing to say anything to end the conversation. Impulse jumped up with a look of pure unadulterated excitement on his face. "Thanks, Dick! You're a real friend! I knew I could count on you." In the blink of an eye, the speedster moved across the room and was giving Nightwing a hug, slapping him on the back.

"Yeah," Nightwing said, looking up at the overhead. "You can count on me."

Superman had not lost any of his natural charisma in the years since he had retired from the Justice League. Though he still routinely patrolled Metropolis, just as any concerned homeowner would walk the perimeter of their property, Superman was for all intents and purposes a man without a job. Three years before he had handed the reigns of being on call 24 hours a day to the former Superboy, who now called himself Superman as well.

To many, though, there was only one Superman, Kal-El of Krypton.

"Kal," Wonder Woman said as she approached the Man of Steel as he stepped out of the teleporter. They embraced liked old friends and she kissed him on the cheek. Years before they had been much closer, but he had chosen to pursue a normal woman, Lois Lane. She wondered if he, like she, ever considered what could have been.

Now, however, was not the time for nostalgia. "I read your message; this is a pretty intense situation," Superman said as they started to walk towards the meeting room. "I also reviewed the League record on Copy Cat."

"She is young and brash, but I also sense in her a great desire to emulate your generation," Wonder Woman concluded.

"My generation?"

"I'm immortal, Kal," Wonder Woman reminded him. "I have no true generation. I belong to the ages," she said in a voice that betrayed just a little sadness. Superman was reminded of something he had heard once, "who wants to live forever?"

"Nightwing is an old ally and has so far proven to be a competent leader of the League."

Wonder Woman nodded and they paused before the meeting room door. "Indeed, I have found Richard's style of leadership, when pressed, to be exemplary. My problem is his management style outside of combat."

"I'm not sure I understand," Superman told her.

"I cannot put my finger on it, but I suspect it has something to do with what happened seven years ago," she told him. "The Batman's crime affected all of us, but I think Richard suffered the most. He was engaged to marry Barbara Gordon and the Joker killed her along with Commissioner Gordon."

"And Bruce killed the Joker for it," Superman added. "He's now paying for his crime. It can't be easy to see your father convicted of such a horrendous crime."

"I never would have believed the Batman capable of such a thing," the Amazon told him as they entered the room. The door sealed behind them and they were alone. "I always felt he had more self-control than that."

Superman put his arms across his chest and his face took on a thoughtful expression. "None of us understood the relationship between Batman and the Joker. I think, despite all that he claimed, the Batman honestly hoped for a cure for him."

"And now what? Richard hopes for a cure for Batman?"

Superman did not immediately answer. Seven years before, the Joker had gone on a rampage in Gotham City, his insanity pushed beyond even his near infinite limits. In the process Commissioner James Gordon, his daughter Barbara (also a Justice League member code-named Oracle), as well as Poison Ivy, the Penguin and the Riddler had all been killed, savagely murdered by the Joker and his gang. The Joker had gone so far as to record the entire event.

Through his lengthy torture of Barbara, the Joker had been able to learn the secret identity of the Batman and he then let the whole world know. That process had also revealed the alter egos of both Nightwing and Robin. Batman had gathered his allies together to capture the Joker and the manhunt had taken place over a period of two days. Two days in which several Justice League members had tried in vain to put a net out to catch not just the Joker but also the Batman.

In the end, the Joker had been found murdered, beaten to death, on the rooftop of Wayne Manor. A new fugitive pursuit started after that, with the League and the Titans scouring the streets of Gotham City. Nightwing had flatly refused, locking himself away in Wayne Manor to deal with his grief. It was uncharacteristic for him, but he had lost everyone who had meant anything to him in a 48-hour period.

Superman was obviously more forgiving of the younger man than the rest of the super-heroes.

Batman had surrendered to Superman, but had not said a word, instead entering an immediate guilty plea at trial and subsequently being sentenced to 15 years for aggravated manslaughter. A few months later, Nightwing had returned to the scene and had been working, ever since, to try and take the place of his mentor and somehow bring honor to the mantle of the bat again. "I think that Dick is simply tired of being judged for something he did not do," Superman told her. "Copy Cat's anger towards him is based upon some ideal that heroes always do the right thing."

Wonder Woman looked away and he reached out and touched her cheek gently. She turned back to him. "How many mistakes have you and I made in the past, Diana? Despite our powers and abilities, we are all human on the inside."

She reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezing it with all of her might. There was no way she could hurt him, but the only way she could convey the intense emotion she was feeling was through physical touch. "We cannot allow fighting in the ranks, Kal; no matter what."

Slowly, the Man of Steel pulled away from her. "Remember the story about the League back when Maxwell Lord was in charge? Remember how he had recruited both Guy Gardner and Batman?"

Wonder Woman nodded. "Gardner was a typical male pig; still is if memory serves me correctly."

"Batman punched him to put him in line; is this any less serious?"

Wonder Woman turned and moved over to the meeting table. Instead of sitting in a chair, she plopped onto the table itself. "You admire him, don't you?"

"I just want to be fair," was his reply. "I've seen him in action as both a follower and a leader. I have faith in him."

"Or maybe you're displacing the trust you had in Batman into Nightwing," she said. Her tone was even and not hostile, though she could tell that her words had cut to the heart of the matter. His face darkened, but she had seen him too many times at his best and at his worst to be put off by it. She was incapable of lying and sometimes, it appeared, incapable of tact.

He was silent for a few moments and then he looked away and through the walls with his X-ray vision. "You may have a point there, Diana."

"I'm not trying to sway your opinion; I'm only asking if you can be impartial."

He did not get the chance to answer. "All members to the monitor room immediately!"

Superman and Wonder Woman entered to see the Red Tornado busy working the monitor controls. Already present were Green Lantern, Impulse and Nightwing, who was staring intently at the screen. Impulse zipped over to stand next to the newcomers. "Priority message coming in from the Outsiders, but the signal is bad. Reddy is trying to patch through an Ultra-Net connection. I offered to hop in a transport tube and head there, but Nightwing said no, not until we know what is going on."

Superman cast an eye over to Wonder Woman, who indicated nothing. Instead, the three of them walked over to stand next to Nightwing. Superman extended his hand and the leader of the Justice League took it with a large smile. Despite the years, it was obvious that being in the presence of Superman still made Nightwing feel like a kid again. "Thanks for coming, Clark."

"Anything for the League, Dick," Superman told him.

"I believe I have corrected the problem," Red Tornado announced. All eyes focused on the monitor that showed the interior of the Outsider's monitor room. There was smoke in the air and several wires were hanging from the ceiling, showing the room with sparks. "It appears there had been some sort of incident."

"No crap," Green Lantern muttered.

 "Zip it," Nightwing said as he took a few steps forward. "Reddy, I thought the incoming signal registered it was in Arsenal's voice."

"The voice-recognition software confirmed that Arsenal was the sender of the message and allowed for the priority," the android told him. "It has only been five minutes."

Out of the smoke a body flew towards the monitor and slammed into it. Blood splattered, obscuring the view and a maniacal laugh could be heard in the background. "Roy!" Nightwing called out, recognizing the limp form against the screen.

Arsenal's eyes were half-open and he was trying to speak, but it was obvious he was having trouble. It was then that he pulled back slightly, as if pulled from behind. He remained in the air, struggling and writhing in pain. "Hera help him," Wonder Woman said.

Then his chest exploded outward as a black fist punched through it. It dripped gore and blood and the fingers flexed, flinging some matter from them. Again there was the laughing, like something from the pits of hell. It echoed for several seconds and then a voice like fingers over a chalkboard spoke to them from the darkness. "It is only a matter of time," it said.

Nightwing's heart froze in his chest as he watched the fist pull back. The corpse of his friend, one of his oldest comrades, fell out of camera view. Superman moved up to stand next to him. "I recognize that voice," he said.

"As do I," Red Tornado added. "My data banks are interlinked with the Justice League mainframe."

Nightwing spoke as he stepped towards the monitor. "You bastard! Why are you doing this?"

"You were one of us, Todd," Superman called out.

A face moved into a view, completely black except for large eyes and a grinning smile of pearl white teeth. It personified evil in the way it seemed to be a happy face in the midst of so much death. "I concur with Superman's assessment," Red Tornado said.

"Ah, an android with a heart; my little Tin Man," the face said with a giggle. "I hope you can experience pain, I most surely do."

"Obsidian!" Nightwing cried, smashing the keyboard at the monitor station. The image winked out, but only because it had been cut from the other end.


	5. Chapter 5

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

"It's been two weeks, Nightwing," Black Canary said, her face betraying the red-hot emotions she was barely keeping in check. "Two weeks since I buried the man whom I considered my son and your Justice League hasn't gotten one step closer to capturing Obsidian."

Nightwing rubbed the stubble on his chin and kept the other hand holding the small glass of scotch he had out of camera view. The lighting in the Batcave should have hidden it, but he did not want to take any chances. There was an unwritten rule that Gotham heroes did not drink while in costume and Black Canary's mother had been one of the original costumed adventurers back in the 1940's. Her daughter's word still carried a lot of weight with not just the other heroes of the city, Huntress and the like, but also with the entire community.

It was bad enough hiding his thoughts from Wonder Woman but now he was hiding his habits from someone that had been Barbara's best friend. The scant thought triggered a hundred memories, pleasant and unpleasant of the scarlet-haired woman that had been such an important part of his life. "I wasn't aware that I had to check in with the Justice Society on one of our cases," he replied.

She looked mad enough to step through the monitor and choke him and he did not blame her. When word had gotten out about what had happened to the Outsiders, the gravity of the entire situation with Obsidian had really hit home. Arsenal had been a long time member of the long underwear sect. Many, especially Nightwing, had loved him.

But most especially Black Canary.

Many years ago, when she was barely out of her teens, she had taken up with Oliver Queen, the womanizing Green Arrow. Roy Harper had been his partner and his adopted son long before he knew about his real children. A special bond had formed between Harper and Queen's only true love, the Black Canary. "Don't start that crap with me, Dick! Obsidian was the original Green Lantern's son and that makes him a Justice Society problem…"

"Except he was a member of the Justice League at one time, back in the good old days when he was just screwed up and not evil," Nightwing was quick to point out. He realized he was starting to shout and he had to admit that it felt good. He had kept his emotions tight ever since he had watched his friend die. He had buried them deep, but there was only so much room left in his soul for the torment he felt. He wanted Obsidian as bad as anyone, but there was no way to track him.

"I don't want to fight with you on this, Dick," Black Canary said, her voice suddenly a quiet calm. "The JSA wants to help…"

"And the best way you can is by keeping an eye on all of the other groups while the League concentrates on finding him."

He could tell she was not satisfied with the answer. "We have experienced members."

"So do we."

"Damn it!" she swore, her voice cracking. He could see that her eyes were puffy and red from days of crying. He was lucky that he wore a mask. With the mask, he could hide his eyes, hide the windows into his soul. He sometimes wondered if heroes like him that wore masks if they always had something terrible to hide. Superman didn't wear a mask.

Batman did.

He leaned forward, nearly knocking his drink down. "Dinah, if for one second I thought that the League could not handle this situation, I would personally show up on the doorsteps of the JSA headquarters and would beg you for help. Yes, the League is undermanned with Cissie and Copy Cat off of the team…"

"Have you seen her? Bart is calling me constantly," Black Canary asked.

Nightwing paused for a moment. He would have thought lying would have become easier with time. How many of his friends had he lied to over the years? Was his life based on lies? What was the truth now? "No, I haven't seen her since Roy's funeral and I didn't think that was the time to discuss her marital situation."

Dinah nodded. "Lucky I suppose Bart drew monitor duty that day."

Nightwing nodded. "Superman has agreed to stay on to help out and Helena is on stand-by; we aren't helpless. Our biggest problem is trying to figure out where Todd will strike again and stopping him."

The blonde heroine rubbed her forehead. "Am I insane or did the League not report that Todd was killed eight years ago? I distinctly remember reading a report from Batman that said Todd had killed himself."

"I read the same report," Nightwing replied, glancing over at a folder that was lying next to a sandwich he never ate. "Batman believed that Todd had killed himself after he was confronted by his father's ghost thanks to the Spectre. Alan forced Todd to acknowledge that his anger was misdirected, that there had never been any reason to blame the super-hero community for his problems, whatever the were."

"I never really understood him," Black Canary confessed. "His sister, Jade, inherited the green energy powers of the Green Lantern, while Todd inherited some sort of darkness."

"Some darkness is hereditary; some is made," Nightwing said. "I'm not sure anyone knew the extent of Todd's emotional problems."

"Have you talked with his sister?"

He shook his head. "Communications with Oa, headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps is sporadic at best. I tried to get a hold of Kory Anders, she was a Lantern for awhile, but she…"

"She's not talking to you? What do you expect, Dick? It's like every woman you get involved with ends up with a broken heart…" Her face suddenly flushed red as she remembered the ups and downs of his relationship with Barbara. They had been so in love, yet so afraid of loving each other. "I'm sorry."

He didn't bother to answer, but instead shit off the communications link and then locked it out to prevent even a priority signal from getting through. He turned in the chair and looked across the cave at the glass cases that held the costumes of the fallen members of the family.

Jason. Barbara. Bruce.

He supposed it would only be appropriate to have a case made for the latest Robin to have fallen in the line of duty, but he just wasn't sure when he would get around to it.

Slowly he stood up and walked away from the massive computer that took up one whole wall of the Batcave and made his way to the stone stairs that led up to Wayne Manor. Cissie had been staying with him, trying her hardest to get him to agree to some sort of commitment, but he had so far resisted her efforts. When he had told her of Roy's death, it had been his cold shoulders that she had cried on instead of being in the arms of someone who actually loved her. She was merely a distraction for him.

And now she was going to have his baby.

He reached the top of the stairs and looked down the fifty feet to the floor below. Nobody would have thought twice if his body were found broken at the bottom, the result of a misstep that sent him crashing to his death. The dark voices were around him, telling him it was only fitting that he take that plunge, that it was all in the name of revenge.

He laughed with the chuckle of a madman as a memory tickled his brain. It had been here in the cave, many years before, back when Bruce had first offered him the chance to become Robin. Clad in his Batman costume, Bruce had put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm offering you the chance to see justice done for your parents' murder," he had said in that voice that sounded two steps from the grave.

Tears in his eyes, young Dick Grayson had shaken his head. "I don't want justice, I want revenge."

"Revenge serves no purpose, it offers no closure," Batman had warned him. "Justice allows a society to breathe easy again, to know that there is order out of chaos."

Nightwing mouthed the words as he remembered them. "Your parents were killed for what they had, Bruce, that's why you want justice. Mine were killed because of what someone else had; they were completely innocent. There is no justice for that."

He nodded his head, agreeing with the statement even after so much time. It had defined his philosophy over time, had caused the rift between him and his mentor years later. It was a darkness that few could understand. Bruce had wanted to bring justice for every crime, whereas Nightwing had gone for revenge and each time he had struck a blow against the face of some criminal, in his heart he had wanted to hit harder.

Certainly he pretended, he had fooled himself, thinking that he was only using the appropriate force to stop a crime. He had even joined a police department in his younger days; Officer Richard Grayson, Bludhaven Police Department. Even then he couldn't put the philosophy away, couldn't do it Bruce's way. Over the years it had just built up, the need to not just capture criminals, but to punish them as well.

And some, if they knew his thoughts, would say his point was proven, that in the game of heroes and villains, it was the people like him that made the true headway against crimes. He was rich and had a woman half his age begging to be his bride. He was the leader of the Justice League!

He peered into the darkness of the cave, just making out the glimmer of the glass cases. He wondered, when he was gone, who would make a display for him.

Then he wondered, did he even deserve one?

He heard voices coming from the library, two female ones. Cissie had company and he causally walked in, expecting…well, not really expecting anyone. Though his secret identity was now well known, it had not garnered him any friends. He was mostly alone, except for Bat-Mite, who was asleep in the corner with a half chewed dog biscuit.

Cissie was in a chair, dressed in shorts and a halter-top and Nightwing wondered if she understood how obvious that such attire appeared? His lover was showing more skin than some lingerie models.

Then he saw who she was talking to and realized that their secret was safe.

Kory Anders, the English equivalent of her native name, was most definitely not human. She had copper colored skin and a mane of hair that looked like a red sunburst. Her pupiless green eye, together with her six-foot frame and shapely figure, made her one of the most beautiful women in the world.

She stood up as he entered and he inwardly marveled at how beautiful she still was. Once she had even been a super model, which was not surprising in a world where aliens were commonplace. She was a princess of her world as well, Tamara; at least she had been before it had been destroyed. Decades of war had nearly decimated her peoples and she had taken refuge on Earth where she became the second Starfire.

Years later, she had accepted a position with Hal Jordan's reformed Green Lantern Corps, not long after Jordan had returned from the dead. "Dick," she said with a smile. Her face brightened the room and he could hear the demons in his mind retching and coughing at the sight.

"Kory," he said, accepting a hug and a kiss. He caught a wary eye from Cissie and he scowled at her. They pulled away and she looked him over. He caught the glimmer of worry in her expression. They had spent too many long nights together for him not to be able to see it. He faked a smile. "I wasn't expecting you." He chuckled and then shook his head. "I was just talking about you with Black Canary."

Kory turned and regarded Cissie. "Yes, well I think it is very nice that you are allowing a friend to stay here while she works out her problems." When she turned back, Nightwing knew that she was fully aware that it was a lie, but Kory was a good enough friend not to say anything about it.

"Yeah, well, Cissie is a good friend and considering everything that has happened…"

Kory nodded and moved to adjust one of the straps of her costume. It was barely covering her, but it was more than what Cissie was wearing. Any other time, he thought to himself, he would have imagined he had stepped onto the set of an adult film. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here for Roy's funeral. I heard about it from your Green Lantern, but I was too busy on Oa."

"I thought you were done with the Corps," Nightwing said.

Kory hesitated and then looked at Cissie. "I hate to be rude, darling, but I really need to talk to Dick alone."

Cissie smiled and Nightwing felt a sharp pain in his back as he imagined the vile thoughts running through his mistress' mind. "Of course, how rude of me," she replied, filling the room with a chill. With as much dignity as she could muster, Cissie got up and left the room.

"A married younger woman, Dick? Really?"

Nightwing dropped his fake smile and moved over to the bar. "Drink?"

Kory shook her head. "Human liquors are too weak for enjoyment." Nightwing snorted, explaining there was a time she wouldn't have anything except a glass of milk and happy thoughts. "That was a long time ago; we were both different people then."

"Couldn't tell by looking at you," he commented.

"Still trying to get me into bed, even after all of these years?" she joked. He moved away from the bar, removing his mask and sipping at his drink. She noted the glass. "You never used to drink."

"I used to have other things to do," he replied as he sat down. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't be so snippy."

Kory moved over to a chair opposite him and sat down. He was amazed at how much she had not aged, but then her race was longer lived than a human's. He would be a rotted hunk of meat before she showed her first wrinkle. "I'm leaving," she said.

"Was it something I said?"

She grinned. "No, I mean that I'm leaving Earth. One of the reasons I agreed to join the Green Lantern Corps was to try and find a world that would be suitable for refugees from my world. One of the long range probes sent out by the Corps has found such a place, far beyond the known galaxy."

Nightwing moved forward. "I know that had been a dream of your s for a long time, Kory," he said.

She nodded and turned to look out the window. "The trip takes ten years. My people will be in cryogenic freeze."

"Oh," Nightwing said, sitting back and realizing the extent of her revelation.

"So you see, by the time I get there, establish a colony for my people, a return trip would be…impractical," she admitted. He counted the years in his head and determined that he would most likely be dead by the time she wanted to visit Earth. She was no longer a Green Lantern, no longer had the ability to use a power ring to bend space and time to make a trip across several million light-years in a few hours.

She was going to be, effectively, dead to him.

"I don't know what to say," he said and it was one of the first true statements he had made in a long time. Immediately his mind wandered to the cruelty of survival as he called it. How many friends and loved ones had he lost over the years because he had been able to beat the Grim Reaper at his game? His parents. Alfred. Jason. Barbara. Donna. Roy.

He heard the laughter, the demonic joy that the demons of his mind experienced whenever the weight of his existence weighed down upon him. He was here, drinking scotch and talking with an old lover while his comrades and loved ones rotted in coffins under six feet of dirt. Suddenly his tongue felt numb and he started sweating.

"I just wanted to make sure that, before I left, everything between you and I was…finished," she said, her eyes suddenly taking a doe-like appearance. In that moment he felt the urge to sweep her up and kiss her; kiss her in the way he used to when he was denying his feelings for Barbara, when he had transferred them to her. Back to the days of his youth when everything could wait until tomorrow, when the moment counted for something.

Age brought wisdom and regret. "I do not regret anything about our friendship, Kory," he said, against his will. He could not keep her here; he didn't love her either. He never had, despite the fact he had wanted to so very much.

"I see," was all she said.

He sipped his drink. "A favor, though," he asked and she nodded. "One day you will marry and you will have children. When you talk about us, I hope you will remember the good times more than the bad."

A tear fell down her cheek. "I loved you so much," she said, letting her heart pour out. "But I could never compare to her," she said, referring to Barbara. "I wish I knew what it was about her that so enthralled you. Was it her beauty, her intelligence, her bravery?"

He looked away, his eyes looking into memory, capturing a picture of her face. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes upon her in her Batgirl costume and how at that moment he had felt that she was the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He recalled their failed attempts at being lovers, at being friends and at being comrades in arms. The world demanded too much of them, never giving them the time they needed to just love one another.

He had sought solace in Kory's arms. In Donna's. In Helena's. Now in Cissie's. Would all of them hate him if he confessed that each time he made love to them, he thought of her? "You were just too good for me, Kory," he said, hoping to ease her mind.

"She's in love with you now," Kory told him, referring to Cissie. "Does she realize how much you hate yourself?"

He was surprised; Kory had never been so forward. "I have my reasons."

"Why, Dick; is it because of what Bruce did? You couldn't have known!"

He laughed and finished the rest of his drink in a single swallow. "Bruce! It always comes back to Bruce. My life is defined by Bruce Wayne, the great Batman!"

"He made a mistake…"

"Yeah, by taking me in," Nightwing told her. His voice suddenly grew cold. "Better he had left me to be raised in an orphanage."

She shook her head and he could see the pity on her face, but he wondered if she pitied herself instead of him. The man she had loved was long gone. He was now an alcoholic, womanizing and suicidal mess. She was lucky she got to leave Earth. "This is no way to say good-bye," he said, standing up.

She did the same and they embraced. He could smell her; her race had a distinctive scent that was not unpleasant. The odor trigger memories within his brain. "Forget Earth and concentrate on your new life."

"I will miss you greatly, Dick Grayson," she said, crying.

He felt the need to cry as well, but the tears would not come.

Wonder Woman took in a deep breath; her chest heaving and Nightwing could tell she was not happy with him. Copy Cat had been booted from the League, based upon Superman's recommendation. The Amazon had accepted the decision, but was not pleased with it. Already she had gone through the list of reservists and was trying to find suitable replacements for the members they had lost.

She looked at the image of Nightwing and her eyes narrowed. She had known him most of his life. Her twin sister, Donna Troy, had actually been in love with him at one time and more than once Wonder Woman had found herself throwing a lustful eye at him. But beyond the physical, there was a darkness that surrounded the scion of Batman. Now he was leader of the League, elected to a position that Wonder Woman had not wanted at the time. She now regretted that decision.

She had contacted all of the original members of the League from Aquaman to the Flash and none of them wished to rejoin. The Flash, especially, had been confident in the abilities of Nightwing to lead the League to victory over Obsidian, but Wonder Woman had her doubts. The League was becoming useless. Green Lantern was, no pun intended, green. Impulse was an emotional wreck. And Superman, in her opinion, was too preoccupied with seeing Nightwing as the Batman that never was.

"You have no choice; Batman led the League task force that last defeated Obsidian," she told him.

Anger was apparent on his face. "I don't want to talk to him," he said.

She shrugged. "You're the leader of the League; you have to talk to him. He'll talk to you anyway."

"You slept with him," he pointed out. It was not a well-known fact, but Wonder Woman and Batman had been a couple for about six months, just prior to his arrest. His fall from grace had hardened her edge as well. "I'm sure he would like to see you more."

"I'll excuse your piggish comments based upon your grief," she warned. He knew he was pushing her as well and he wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Amazons were known for killing their enemies. "You are his son, his successor. He will talk to you."

Nightwing cursed. "Fine, I'll go see him, for all the good it will do."

Wonder Woman leaned towards the monitor. "Make no mistake, Richard, you are the leader of the League, but don't think for a second that I won't use my authority as a charter member to remove you if you don't straighten up. I cannot fathom the pain you have experienced and you have my sympathy, but Obsidian is a true threat to us and I will brook no slacking in our duty."

"No wonder he liked you," Nightwing said as he ended the transmission. "Damn control freak."

The older man walked through the doorway with an air of superiority, which was proper given who he was. He was a man used to being in control and even though others were in charge of him on paper, in reality he was the king over the domain.

Nightwing noted that his hair had grayed a bit, but otherwise he looked good considering his age and circumstances. The man came in, saw him and gave the hero an arrogant smile. "Hello, Dick," the man said as he plopped into a chair.

"Hello…Dad."


	6. Chapter 6

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Seven years ago…

"…and in tonight's lead story, the Joker, the self-proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime, has once again escaped from Arkham Asylum. Viewers may remember the last time the Joker escaped, some six months ago, and how he was apprehended by the Batman after he had committed several murders." The television screen shifted from the strong-jawed anchorman to the bleach-blonde, large toothed smile of his female co-host.

"That's right, Ted; in fact, the Joker still has to be tried for those crimes," she said with a face that seemed joyous no matter what it was she was reporting.

The scene suddenly shifted back to the anchorman, who was touching his earpiece and nodding his head. "Hold on, Muffy, but it looks like we've got a WGTH news exclusive coming in." He nodded again and then looked straight into the camera. "We have a confirmed report that the bodies of Edward Nigma, the Riddler, and Pamela Isley, Poison Ivy, have been found on the grounds of Arkham Asylum. On scene investigators have stated that it looks as if they had been killed using one of the Joker's patented chemical weapons."

Muffy then appeared on the screen. "That coincides with the rumor that former Gotham City police commissioner James Gordon and his daughter Barbara have been kidnapped by the Joker…"

Dick Grayson turned off the television and frowned. Why hadn't Batman let him know?

The younger man knew he had to give the Caped Crusader the benefit of the doubt. Batman left no detail unattended to. Perhaps he had tried to get a hold of him, but Dick could not help but admit that he had been dead tired after returning from a mission in deep space with the New Titans. He had collapsed on his couch and literally had passed out from exhaustion. He checked his digital messenger and saw that it was dead. The battery must have run out on his cross-galaxy trip.

Swearing out loud, he opened up the battery compartment and dropped the cell out before going over to his "junk drawer" to pull out another. Slapping it in he was rewarded with a chirping sound and then the green flashing light that said he had messages. Quickly he scanned through them and found one from Batman, one from Tim Drake (a.k.a Robin) and a final one from Batgirl. All of them told him to get to Gotham immediately.

Quickly he finished putting on a fresh costume and took the secret stairwell to his hidden garage. His home, a seemingly modest dwelling halfway between Gotham City and Bludhaven, had been designed so that he could enter and exit without being seen. In the sub-basement he hopped into a mid-70's Chevy muscle car and gunned the custom engine. Taking a small tunnel, he emerged out of a second garage some half-mile away from his home.

He gripped the steering wheel hard, wondering what madness Barbara was being subjected to now. How many times in the past had the Joker kidnapped her or her father in the hopes of getting to the Batman? Of driving him over the edge? Why did he always zero in on them as pawns? It had never worked in the past, despite the terrible things the Joker had done. He had raped the Commissioner and Barbara, even going so far as to shoot Barbara through the spine, depriving her of the use of her legs. He had killed Jim Gordon's second wife. He had done so many terrible, terrible things and despite it all, the Batman had persevered.

But Nightwing's life had been drastically altered and there was no doubting that. The night the Joker had taken away Barbara's legs he had also taken away Dick Grayson's bride.

So many times they had come so close to professing their undying love for each other and yet something always got in the way. After awhile, he thought he understood what it was. Despite everything she had accomplished after the shooting, regardless of what anyone said to her, she always felt like half of a woman. They could never have the intimacy they had shared in their younger days, could never have children. He knew that despite his emotional bond with her, he could never truly appreciate the horror and anguish she felt every time she had to change colostomy bag. How often did she turn on a television and watch two people in love running down a moonlit beach and cry when she faced the dark truth it was something she could never do again?

She had loved him so much that she had been willing to let him go so he could have a life, but it had not been the life he had desired. Both had gone from relationship to relationship, thinking that there was some way to fill the voids they both felt without the other. It had never worked. Their lives were running on the same track, just in opposite directions. Every so often they would pass, but then they would begin to run further and further apart.

In fact, over the last few months, they had been becoming close again and he had seriously been considering asking her to marry him…again. Despite the situation, he let a small smile cross his face. "She won't turn me down a third time, will she?" It was possible she would, he knew; if there was anyone in the entire world that he could not predict the actions of, it was his Babs. Had he not been called into space for his New Titans mission, he would have already proposed.

He never considered that he would never have a time to ask.

Two hours later, Harley Quinn fell to the floor, spitting blood and teeth. Nightwing examined his baton and seeing a tooth stuck in it, threw it down onto the floor. He reached down and grabbed the Joker's girlfriend by the collar and hoisted her up. "Where is he?" he asked.

She tried to speak, but the last blow had knocked her silly, if that were even possible. Nightwing had never considered Quinn much of anything except a fool. A Deadly fool for sure, but anyone who could fall madly in love with the Joker was more an object of pity than scorn. "I'm talking to you, Harley!"

She smiled a toothless grin. "You hith me," she lisped. "You don'th hith a wady."

He brought his fist back and she shook her head. Despite her enhanced strength and stamina, she could still feel pain and no doubt she was in a lot of it. There had already been scratches on her face and tears in her costume when Nightwing had found her. He assumed it was from the fight with the Riddler and Poison Ivy. "How could you do it? How could you kill Ivy?" he asked, knowing that she and Harley had been extremely close friends for several years.

"Anyhing for my 'Puhhin!"

"I'm not Batman," Nightwing told her. "I do not have a lot of patience and I have no problem smacking you around," he said. It was a true statement in that though he pitied Quinn, he would not hesitate to violate her civil rights to rescue Barbara. "I used to date the Huntress," he warned.

A look of horror came across her face; the Huntress was well known for her brutal tactics. Harley gave him the details he needed and before he left her for the police, he tied her hands behind her back and then gave her one last punch for good measure. As he pulled his fist away, he suddenly became aware of the brutality of the act. Barbara had mentioned, several months before, that his tactics had gotten a little rougher over the last few years and he wondered if perhaps being surrounded by all of the filth was affecting him. In his youth, he would never hit a criminal that was secured.

Out cold, Harley slumped to the floor. Quickly he pulled out his digital messenger and typed in a note for the Batman and the police, telling them where they could find Harley and where he was going.

The entire game was just getting old for him, especially with the Joker. Over the last few years he had become less of a menace and instead had been transformed into something more pathetic. He hadn't had a major scheme in at least three years, not since the Justice League had crushed his Injustice Gang of the World.

Now he was back to kidnapping and trying to convince the Batman to kill him or something along those lines. The fact that he killed two other villains did nothing to add any menace to his latest plot. Actually, Nightwing thought as he made his way back to his car, it showed how desperate he had become. He was leaving a trail of bodies, but not the important ones. Batman would argue against that line of reasoning, saying all lives were important. Nightwing didn't believe so. He had seen too many people waste their lives in criminal pursuits to have any pity for people like the Riddler and Poison Ivy.

But even as he locked away his sympathy, a nagging thought entered his brain. Would the Joker kill Barbara? The last three times he had captured her he had done nothing more than irritate her, as if he was finally getting the meaning of the joke that was his life and it was no longer funny.

Of course, the hero thought as he got back into his car and floored the gas pedal, it was possible that he was just getting complacent, that the Joker had an elaborate scheme to lull Batman into a false sense of security and then bam! Then he springs his master plan!

It was hard to believe, hard to conceive of; but his past track record indicated that the Joker's maniacal rage was no longer directed towards innocents, but more towards the Batman personally. Nightwing remembered a conversation he had recently had with the Batman where he had put forth the idea that maybe the Joker was afraid of losing the Batman as a foe. "Ridiculous," Batman had commented.

That had been the final word on the conversation, but not on the issue. It didn't matter anyway; the Joker was close by and Nightwing felt he was more than able to handle a middle-aged comedian.

The warehouse was familiar; it was one of the first places that the Joker had used as a base of operations. Nightwing had actually been a teenager, dressed in his Robin costume, the last time he had visited the place. Barbara, as the original Batgirl, had been with him.

He could still smell her perfume he told himself as he walked slowly through the dark. He sniffed again, realizing that he was really smelling her favorite scent. She was here.

He did not quicken his pace, afraid that if the Joker was holding a pistol on Barbara, frightening him might set it off. He moved to the right, disappearing into a stack of old crates and scaring a couple of fat rats. He suppressed a shiver; he hated small rodents. Then he smiled; he wondered if bats fell into that category?

As he slipped around a large box marked FRAGILE, his foot kicked something heavy. Looking around, making sure he hadn't been seen or heard, he squatted down and adjusted the night lenses in his mask. He heart sank as he looked into the pained face of James Gordon, former commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department. He was dead and most likely had been for some time as his body was cold to the touch. There was no sign of foul play, not even a bruise on his face from a cursory smack.

Old Jim had a weak heart and Nightwing considered that it had finally given out. An undignified way to die, especially for such an honorable man. Yet, it was much better than any sort of violent death that his many enemies had wished for him. He put a gauntleted hand over the man's eyes and closed the lids. "Good-bye, Jim," he whispered before saying a silent prayer for his old friend.

He then caught the sound of a voice not too far away, a mumbling sound that he recognized immediately. The Joker had a tendency to talk to himself and so Nightwing had no idea if he was alone or with some of his hired thugs. He cautiously made his way to the edge of the crates and peered around the corner. The Clown Prince of Crime was standing before a stage and the hero remembered it from his earlier adventure here.

At that time, the Batman had found both Robin and Batgirl tied to a giant bomb set up on the stage; behind the large red curtain had been ten of the Joker's best men. It had taken Batman two minutes to free them.

"The only thing that is saving you right now from the beating of your life is that I believe you didn't mean for Jim Gordon to die," Nightwing called out as he stepped into the light. He kept one hand next to the shuriken on his belt, just in case someone came running out from behind the stage curtain.

"Nightwing!" the Joker called out, his face becoming one large macabre smile. "Where's Batman?"

"He's not coming; he's too busy."

"So he sent a boy to do a man's job," the Joker mused. Nightwing noted that the Clown Prince looked bad, even for his usual macabre self. He had lost a lot of weight and appeared almost skeletal. It was unnerving, like trying to confront a corpse.

The Joker moved over to the side of the stage, next to the stairs that lead up to it. "Old Jimmy was dead when I got there; I just brought the body to talk to, but it sort of got boring. Especially with old Babs screaming in the background."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm all grown up now," Nightwing reminded him. "Let's cut the crap. Where is she?"

The Joker's eyes went wide. "Babs? My baby? Oh, Dick, Dick, Dick," the Joker said, his voice suddenly becoming cold. Nightwing straightened; how did the Joker find out his real name. The Joker saw his surprise at the revelation. "I guess you thought old Joker was washed up, didn't you? They all did. Said I wasn't funny anymore, that I had lost my edge."

In voice that would have given demons chills, the Joker continued his narrative. "But the joke was on them. I've bounced back; I've made the ultimate comeback! Figured I'd go back to where I was happiest, you know, murder and mayhem."

"Damn you, where is she?" Nightwing stepped forward a step and balled his hands into fists. "If you've…"

The Joker stuck his tongue out. "Nyah! What are you going to do, hero boy? Call daddy? Oh Bruce! Bruce! Come help me!" He started to laugh and Nightwing made no move towards him. Something was different in the Joker's eyes, his attitude and his tone. It was as if he had been transformed back into the beast he had been so many years before.

Then he thought about Harley Quinn, the psychiatrist girlfriend of the Joker. Had she done something, perhaps provided him with the therapy he needed to regain his old composure? The thought was frightening. "Where is she?" he asked again.

Ignoring the question, the Joker decided to pursue his own line of thought. "I mean it looks like even Batman, Batman of all people, doesn't take me seriously anymore! Used to be if you mentioned my name, even old Dark and Spooky came close to pissing his pants!" The Joker slowly moved to the left, towards a large lever, but he did not touch it. Nightwing made sure he was not standing over a trap door and then he realized that it was the curtain control.

He relaxed a little. No doubt Barbara was tied up behind the curtain! It was too cliché, but it was something he could handle. He even allowed himself a moment to imagine proposing to her as he carried her down off of the stage. "Do you know how much she loved you, Dickie?" the Joker asked.

"Loved?" Nightwing asked, noting that the Joker was using the past tense. His heart seemed to stop and he physically felt pain rising from his stomach and spreading out through his body.

The Joker reached for the lever. "She just went to pieces without you here," he said before pulling it. The curtain moved, pulled open by small motors high up in the ceiling. As they parted, a scene straight from hell was presented to the disbelieving eyes of Nightwing.

She was dead. Mutilated. Cut into twelve parts; his mind trying to cope with the horror by resulting to something basic such as counting. Then he heard the laughter and then the whispers started and it was his morality saying good-bye as it was replaced by something black, something dark.

In an instant every dream and every hope he had ever possessed dried up and became dust on an ebony wind that started in his heart and blew straight to most evil parts of hell. He screamed, but it was a bellow deep inside himself, his vocal cords unable to respond as his body cried out to shut down. All he wanted to do, oddly enough, was get the pieces and try to put her back together.

He understood, finally, and a part of him chuckled. It was a blackened piece of his soul, charred beyond recognizing by all of the white-hot fury he had kept repressed since the day he had watched his parents die. It was the same for Bruce and he now fully empathized with his mentor and his anal desire to maintain control over every single little aspect of life. He now saw the world through Batman's eyes, but it was only for an instant.

Batman was weak, he told himself; it was a voice that had always been there, but one he had never listened to. It had been the voice that had led to their philosophical differences.

Batman was weak. He never did what was really necessary and now Barbara was dead.

His Barbara.

He would never be able to hold her. Kiss her. Listen to her. Cry with her. Laugh with her.

Batman was weak.

Nightwing was not.

A darkness washed over him, but the Joker did not notice. "Guess old Joker should be taken a little more seriously now, eh, Dickie?"

Nightwing was next to him; he never registered moving the three-meter distance between them. It was as if he willed himself to be there. The Joker laughed and started to ask him what he was going to do. A million thoughts raced through the hero's mind as he recounted the fantasies he had always experienced, but had never let free.

He reached out with both hands and grabbed the Joker's head. A small motion of his arms and a snap and the Joker fell to the ground.

"Die you son of a bitch," Nightwing cursed before spitting on the body. "I'll see you in hell."

The twisted body was lying on the ground when a giant bat shadow fell over them. Nightwing looked up, his vision blurred by the tears in his eyes. Then he turned back to the corpse of the man who had killed the only thing he had every truly loved with all of his being.

Then he spit on it again.

"I'm not sorry," Nightwing said. "Don't look to me for an apology," he told Batman. For two days Nightwing had been staying inside the Batcave under the sternest command of the Batman. The news was already televising 24-hour coverage of the investigation into the murder of the Joker. "Let me go turn myself in," he demanded.

Batman shook his head. "No."

"Yes, Bruce, damn it! I killed him…I murdered him!"

Batman remained silent for a moment and Nightwing took it for disapproval. He decided to once again try to justify his actions. "He deserved to die, Bruce."

'I thought I had trained you better than that. I thought I gave you a choice: be like them or be like me," Batman responded. "I struggled to show you what I felt were the benefits of my way of life. I failed."

"No; I just made a hard decision that you were unable or unwilling to make…"

"And where does it end, Dick?" Batman asked, some animation finally coming to his voice. "Who will be next on your executioner's list?"

"It isn't like that!" Nightwing yelled. "The Joker deserved what he got!"

Batman did not immediately reply. Instead he slowly shook his head and looked at Nightwing as if he were seeing him for the first time. "You are a weapon I created; a weapon I am solely responsible for. If I hadn't interfered in your life, then none of this would have happened." Nightwing was caught completely off guard by the statement and started to protest, but the Batman was not listening. "I should have seen this coming," the Batman told himself.

Nightwing then noticed that there was something different about his father. His shoulders were slumped slightly and he seemed pale and distant. "Bruce, it isn't you fault…"

"A father is supposed to teach his son right from wrong. He is supposed to look out for him, show him how to live a good and decent life." Batman's bottom lip trembled but he suppressed by sheer will. "He is supposed to teach him to be a man."

Batman stepped to the right and put a hand on a workbench for support and Nightwing feared he would fall over. "Bruce…"

"I failed and now someone is dead because of it."

"No…"

"But," Batman said, looking up. "I will try to make things right. You will carry on the mission…"

"The mission?" Nightwing asked, not understanding what Batman was talking about.

"Yes, because I failed. Maybe you're right, Dick; maybe I should have done something all of those years ago," Batman said.

"But I killed the Joker! Me!"

There was a long pause and Batman's eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything and Nightwing considered the weight of the silence. Batman was dying on the inside, torn apart by feelings of despair. Even a man like Bruce Wayne could only tolerate so much.

Another presence seemed to fill the room and a figure started walking down the stairs. "Bruce?" Superman called out.

Nightwing gave a final glance to Batman, who was now a stranger to him and then he stepped quickly across the Cave floor to meet with the Man of Steel. "Hello, Dick," Superman said. His voice was pleasant but his eyes were full of sadness. "I need to see, Bruce."

"No, its me you probably want," Nightwing offered.

Superman shook his head. "I know how difficult this must be for you, but I have to take Bruce in. I don't expect you to do it."

"What?"

Superman put a reassuring hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "The evidence is clear…Batman killed the Joker. I have to arrest him. The police are waiting upstairs. Your identities are exposed."

Nightwing turned to Batman. "Bruce?"

Superman continued to speak. "We found his fingerprints on the Joker's body; forensics was able to lift them. There is no doubt that he killed the Joker."

"No…."

"The mission is yours, Dick," Batman said as he stood up straight and began to remove his utility belt. "I failed. You were right all along."

Hours after Batman had been led away, Nightwing still sat in the Batcave, tears running down his face. There was no way he would ever convince the authorities that he had been responsible for the murder of the Joker. The Batman had fixed it so that Nightwing would pay for his crimes by carrying on the work that Bruce Wayne had started decades before. 

He was now alone, damned by his father, torn from his lover and ashamed to call himself a hero. Only when he saw the price Bruce was paying for his actions did he remember the first lesson: nobody benefits from murder.

"Please, God, forgive me," he said as he slipped onto his knees. He stared up into the top of the Cave. "Forgive me!" he cried into the ever present and always silent darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Bruce Wayne did not look like a man who had been denied his liberty for over seven years. In fact, Nightwing noted as his father took a seat opposite of him, he could not remember ever seeing him so alive. He had taken to not shaving every day and his gray-streaked stubble gave him not the look of shagginess that was so popular with younger folks, but more of a wizened warrior face.

"You look well," Nightwing said. Bruce said nothing for a moment and the other man wondered if his father would send him away. It was no less than what he deserved and he mentally began to prepare himself for the rebuke he was sure he was going to receive. In the seven years since Superman apprehended the Batman, Nightwing had spoken to his mentor perhaps only three times.

Not at all in the past three years; not since Nightwing's relationship with the Huntress had ended. "Thank you," Bruce replied in an even voice. There was a slight smile to his face, but Nightwing could not tell if he was being sarcastic or if he was genuinely happy. Maybe the years away from the stinking streets of Gotham City had been good to him. "You look…tired," the older man said cautiously.

Nightwing nodded and then looked around the room. "Do they still bug these rooms?" he asked. If they were going to discuss official Justice League business, then he did not want civilians to overhear. It was not so much for the protection of the League, but for the citizen. If one of the League's enemies were to suspect that someone employed at Arkham had inside information on the world's foremost super-hero team, then that person's life would be in grave danger.

"Not when I'm in here," Bruce told him. Nightwing detected the subtle aristocratic tone that he had grown to know so well. Despite his championing the innocent and downtrodden, Bruce Wayne was still a somewhat snob at heart. You did not possess billions of dollars and not develop a taste for the better things in life and as such, you came to see yourself in a different light.

That was why, as a younger man, Nightwing had chosen not to use much of his inheritance and even now spent very little of the Wayne fortune. He had absolute control over it until Bruce was released from the Asylum, which if everything went right would be in another eight years.  "I guess the Batman has some pull here," Nightwing observed.

"The Batman is dead," Bruce reminded him before sitting back. "I've accepted it, so should you."

There was no malice in his tone; it was as if he were describing the weather. Nightwing did not understand how you could put such a huge portion of your life behind you that simply. "I didn't come here to discuss our relationship…"

"Good; it should be a pleasant conversation then," Bruce said.

Nightwing paused and took in a deep breath, wishing he had a drink to steady his nerves. Even after all he had been through, his was still the teenage boy who was intimidated by the Batman. How did they end up so far apart? What was the catalyst for the change?

For a brief moment, Nightwing recalled his earlier life as Robin, the Teen Wonder. He had lived for the Batman's approval and though he never gave it verbally, somehow he always knew that Caped Crusader was proud of him. Or was he only fooling himself?

Decades before a super-villain named Bane had broken Batman's back and Bruce had turned the cape and cowl over to a complete stranger, Jean-Paul Valley. Nightwing had been hurt, deeply hurt, so much that even after Jean-Paul was forced to give up the Batman identity and Bruce gave it to Nightwing briefly, he had never really gotten any closure.

They had discussed it; fought and cried over the entire incident and Bruce had gone so far as to admit he was _wrong_ to have bypassed Nightwing; but none of that had ever helped. It was a shun that had haunted the younger man, left him with a feeling in inadequacy that could never be overcome. Had that defined his life, or was it simply an ingredient on the recipe card of his downfall?

"You've heard about the recent hero killings?" Nightwing asked. Bruce nodded and said that he was especially saddened at the loss of Arsenal and the new Robin. "You should have taken her under your wing," he said in retrospect.

Nightwing gritted his teeth. "I never asked her to be a hero. I didn't take on any partners for a reason."

Bruce shrugged. "I suppose you're right…go on."

"It was Obsidian," he announced in a low voice. "He's back and we need to know exactly how you beat him last time." Nightwing leaned forward. "You were running the League, but you were alone in the final confrontation with him."

Bruce nodded and leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It seems like a lifetime ago, but I guess it was." He chuckled. "I thought I had all of the answers; God, what a fool I was."

Nightwing shook his head. "No, God damn it!" he exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. Bruce did not even twitch. "You are not going to take control of this conversation like you have everything else. Answer the question!"

Bruce opened one eye and gave Nightwing a long hard stare. The hero did not flinch. "I don't control everything, because if I had I wouldn't be in here now."

"That's a load of crap! You made the decision to take the blame for my crime, to put yourself up on a cross!" Nightwing struggled to keep his eyes from watering. "I have spent years trying to make up to you what I did! I have done everything you asked…"

"Except the most important thing…"

"He deserved to die!" Nightwing stood up and his chair flew back. Oddly enough, no orderlies came rushing in, but then he would later decide it would have done no good. Two of the world's best martial artists were having an argument; it was better to stay away. "Why can't you get that through your head? Why do you and I have to suffer because that scum is no longer here?"

"Did you ever listen to anything I ever told you?" Bruce asked as he lowered his hand. His gaze was hard and so was the set of his jaw. There was no longer any mirth and Nightwing finally stood face to face with the Batman he had feared for years. "I spent years training you to do the right thing, to bring justice to a world full of injustice."

"The injustice was letting someone like the Joker live for so long! My God, Bruce, are you really that stupid?"

"Stupid?" Bruce asked, one eyebrow cocked. "Because I valued the law? You murdered a man without the benefit of trial. You did the exact same thing that he did time after time. You became the Joker in that instant, Dick."

"Get off your high horse, Bruce…"

Bruce laughed. "You know its true. Why do you think I'm here, Dick? Because I want to punish myself for being a bad father? Yes, I probably do deserve some punishment. Hell, I'm probably ready to be crowned the winner of the Oliver Queen memorial Stupid Damn Father award." He turned away for a moment. "I tried my best but damn it, I never had a father to teach me what to do."

When his head came back around, his eyes were full of tears. Years of pain came pouring out, droplet after droplet. Yet through it all, his voice did not waver. "We did what did to protect innocent people, so they wouldn't have to go through the pain we went through. We helped the law. Maybe we bent it, but it was always in the pursuit of justice. Don't blame me if you over-reacted."

Nightwing moved quickly, up and over the table, his fist catching Bruce square in the jaw. The older man fell back with a crash but again no orderlies came bursting in to his rescue. Nightwing grabbed him by the front of his white shirt and hauled him up. "Don't you drag me into this. I know what I did; I set the record straight. How many lives were ended because you wouldn't do what needed to be done? Jason. Barbara. Sarah. Jim. The list goes on and on, Bruce. Sometimes society has to make tough choices."

Bruce spit out some blood and sneered. "Society made a choice; they put the Joker in Arkham, where he belonged. You decided that wasn't good enough. You usurped the will of the people you were sworn to protect!"

Nightwing roared and head butted his mentor and there was a squishy sound as Bruce's nose exploded into a shower of red. "None of that gives you the right to come here and take my punishment!"

"I'm in here because I need to be," Bruce said. "If I hadn't done something drastic, you would have gone completely over the edge. I know; I skirted that cliffside more times than you can imagine!"

Nightwing let him go and stood up. "Its my crime! Mine!" He turned away and leaned against a wall. "I never meant for this to happen to you."

Bruce slowly got himself back up and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Though he could not see into his son's face, by his posture and tone, it was apparent that something more was wrong then he was letting on. Should he explain further his motivations for taking the blame for the crime? Would that make his son feel any better?

When Nightwing had killed the Joker, the Batman had not been entirely shocked. Many, many times he had to steel himself from doing the exact same thing. Who hadn't wanted the psychopath dead? He murdered hundreds of innocent people and ruined more lives than could be counted. Yet every time he was captured, the Batman had handed him over to police like a birthday present, wrapped up tight sans the pretty bow.

And why? For piece of mind or was it for something else, something that the Batman had always sought to avoid? If he had not turned himself in, if he had not shocked his son back to reality, then the Batman had been fearful that an old prophecy would have to be fulfilled.

When the Joker had shot and raped Barbara Gordon, he had also kidnapped her father, submitting him to humiliation and mental torture beyond imagination. When the Batman finally caught up to the Joker, they had a conversation in which they agreed that of they continued on their respective paths, one of them would surely kill the other. That was the effect of the Joker's madness; he made you become that which you never wanted to be. He saw Batman's ordered life as a threat, something to tear down and he spent all of his time trying to achieve that goal.

Would the Clown Prince of Crime be satisfied in knowing that he had succeeded? Would he have giggled with maniacal glee at the meltdown that the family of the Bat was subjected to in the wake of his murder?

Would it bring him pleasure to realize that Batman had himself locked up to keep him from killing his son?

When he had initially confronted Nightwing about the Joker's murder, the younger hero had been proud of what he had done and in his face Batman saw something he had never seen before. The stress of having lost so many in his life, combined with the horrors that a career of dispelling darkness had changed the happy-go-lucky acrobat into a cynical, spiteful man. If Nightwing had not been stopped, Batman feared he would find some sort of justification for further killings. Nightwing would, in essence, become the Joker in purpose and Batman would have to stop him.

But Batman had trained him and he knew, short of death, once Nightwing completely stepped over the edge, there would be no way of taking him alive.

The idea behind punishment (at least it used to be) was rehabilitation. Nightwing was not a common criminal, he was a special case and that required special means of punishment. The Batman had selected guilt instead of incarceration. No justice would be served if Nightwing had stood trial.

Even if he had been convicted of the crime, the chance of Nightwing spending the rest of his life in jail for murdering the Joker was slim. In fact, Bruce Wayne had reached a plea agreement in order to _prevent_ an acquittal in a jury trial. Nightwing needed to face the true nature of his crime and he could only do that alone, or so the Batman had thought.

Now he was starting to wonder about the extent of the damage that may have been done to Nightwing on that night. Had he wrongly believed that Dick Grayson could hold up under the extreme pressure that the life of a Dark Knight entailed? He was still proud of his killing of the Joker, or was at least trying to justify it.

He hadn't moved beyond that night yet and Bruce swallowed hard. Again he had failed as a father and he cursed himself a thousand times. Alfred had tried to tell him so many times that a hug and kind word did more than stern discipline in many cases. "I know you never meant to hurt me, that you never meant to disappoint me," Bruce offered. "But what you did was wrong, Dick."

Nightwing did not answer immediately, but stayed turned around. When he did speak, it was barely audible. "You don't understand. I don't want your forgiveness, Bruce. What you did, taking the rap for me, was noble, but stupid. You fixed the evidence so that if they had filmed me killing the Joker you would still be the one to hang."

He turned back around, he eyes glistening with moisture. "I know what you were…are trying to do. Get me back to doing the right thing. Pay society back with my blood, sweat and maybe even that little piece of my soul that I tore out that night. I hate that you are in here…I wish it was me…"

"I know, but we both know a price has to be paid," Bruce offered. He spread his hands out. "I'm no better. I should have seen it coming, should have prepared you better. It's called vicarious liability. I'm responsible for the actions of those under me."

"Yeah, but it didn't help, Bruce," Nightwing said, but he offered no more. Bruce saw a defeated man, a man without hope and he knew that the killing of the Joker was not the exact core issue here. Something else was eating at him. There was some issue that he could not come to terms with and it was rotting away his core being. "Can we get back to Obsidian? I've already lost Roy; I don't want to lose anyone else."

Bruce nodded, though the action hurt slightly and the two of them returned to their seats as if nothing had happened. "I was leading a Justice League task force after him, " Bruce began. "Me, Dinah, Helena, J'onn and Diana. He had already murdered his father and we were fearful he was going to go after his sister. Clark took hi won team to protect her while I tried to figure out where he would hide."

Nightwing searched his memory, trying to get past the red buzz that was only dulled by alcohol. "The old Justice League headquarters in Happy Harbor, right?"

"Yes, he had taken up refuge there…was keeping the bodies of some of his victims there as trophies. Todd's problem was that he, deep down, resented his father for what he felt was his abandonment of him and his sister," Bruce explained. "That hatred and the feelings of hurt grew over the years until it became a murderous rage. Of course, it was ridiculous: Alan Scott hadn't even known the children existed until they were adults. Their mother had hidden them away from him."

"Todd also resented the fact that his sister was much closer to their real father than he was," Nightwing added. "So he became obsessed with destroying his father's legacy…"

"And as a founding member of the Justice Society, one could argue that his legacy is the multitude of heroes and super-hero teams we have now," Bruce finished. His eyes narrowed. "He's taking out the teams one by one, working his way up the ladder. First the Titans and then the Outsiders. I would say the All-Stars or the Suicide Squad is next since they have more experienced members."

"The League and the Justice Society will be last on his list," Nightwing agreed. "How did you beat him?"

"I thought he killed himself, though that was never my intent," Bruce replied, noting a slight shift in Nightwing's posture. That, he decided, would bear further investigation. "I got him to face his fears, challenged him to look inside his own soul. With J'onn's help, I managed to do that by establishing a mental link with him. I let him see how the world perceived him and asked if that had been his intent all along. Did his vengeance really make things better."

Bruce leaned back. "Then his own darkness consumed him and he was gone."

Nightwing said nothing for several minutes, his mind putting up barrier after barrier to prevent him from taking in fully the implications of the fate of Obsidian. "Obviously, he got over his feelings," Nightwing finally said.

"Dick, is everything alright?" Bruce asked.

Nightwing stood up. "No, Bruce, everything is not alright. I've got a super-powered serial killer running around the planet targeting my friends. My father is sitting in prison…in an insane asylum…for a crime I committed because he wants to guilt-trip me back onto the straight and narrow. The League is falling apart around me because everyone thinks I'm some sort of coward for not taking you in myself. My girlfriend, who is married to a friend of mine, is pregnant and the simple fact is I'm not in love with her."

Bruce's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You got Ollie's daughter pregnant?"

Nightwing could not help but grin. "I don't even want to know how you found out she and I are having an affair."

Bruce waved it off. "J'onn told me; he caught the two of you in a compromising position. It's the reason he left he League; he did not want to be in the middle of a domestic squabble that could put the League in danger."

"Does J'onn know?" Nightwing asked, indicating the truth about the Joker.

Bruce shook his head. "Not as far as I know of, but he's at a loss to understand why you would interfere in a marriage, especially that of a friend, of someone who looks up to you. Martians take life commitments like marriage very seriously. You offended him."

"Great, someone else to hate me…"

"He doesn't hate you, but he is, like I am, concerned. Maybe you need to just step away from it all, Dick. Maybe we were both wrong…"

"Too late for regrets, Bruce," Nightwing said as he moved towards the door. He pressed a button to summon the guard. "I'm sorry I haven't been by to visit more, but I probably won't be making a habit out of it either."

"You need to talk to someone."

"I tried. He doesn't want to listen." Bruce tried to get more information about whom it was that Nightwing had tried to confide in, but the door opened and the hero stepped out into the hallway and quickly put distance between the two of them once again.


	8. Chapter 8

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

The red light flashing on the panel indicated to Wonder Woman that it was a priority call on the Founder's Channel. The link was established after most of the founding members of the current League left the team to allow them to access the leadership of the team in times of trouble. Since Superman was now an active member, she assumed it was most likely Aquaman.

The King of the Seas regularly checked in with Wonder Woman, their friendship growing stronger every year. Though he once had romantic intentions for the Princess of the Amazons, those days were long behind them. They were both unique in the super-hero community in that they both were royalty and had expectations placed upon them that went beyond the code of conduct that most heroes voluntarily adhered to.

Without even bothering to look at the screen, she reached over and opened the channel while continuing to perform her research into all of the cases involving Obsidian. "Hello, Diana," the deep baritone voice of Bruce Wayne said in greeting. Despite herself, a small smile crept upon her face but she did not turn immediately to let him see it. "Good afternoon, Bruce," she responded.

He waited patiently for her to face the monitor and noted she seemed surprised to see his nose taped up and blackened eyes. "Did your cellmate try to kiss you afterwards?" she asked.

"Dick came by for a talk," he told her. "You look the same; lovely as ever."

"Your compliments are a crime too late, Bruce," she said and the statement triggered a flood of memories. Though they had served together in the League for many years, neither Diana nor Bruce had been very cordial to each other. He saw her as a hypocrite, someone who preached peace while swinging a sword. She saw him as an aristocrat always out to prove to others just how smart he was.

When they did finally fall for each other, they fell hard. Their passion was the stuff of romance novels and television movies and for nearly a year she had known what could only be described as bliss. They fit well with each other and the Amazon was even beginning to seriously consider the prospect of marrying him.

Then he murdered the Joker and while the warrior side of her could understand his reasons and even forgive him for it, the fact that he had broken his own code of ethics made her realize that he could lie to her. The legend was that nobody could do that, but he had managed. Because of that she felt she could not trust him and that brought into question whether or not she could trust Nightwing. She always felt that he knew more about the Joker's death than he let on, but she refused to pry.

But still, she noted, even after all of the years, seven of them, the sound of his voice did something to her. He did not look bad considering his age, but that was never a concern for her. She was immortal but he could be too with the proper conditions, such as certain areas of her homeland. There were other options as well, but now was not the time to contemplate such things.

"I just wanted to start the conversation off on the right foot," he said. She did not bother to reply; sarcasm would be wasted on him. She did wonder how he got access to a secure vid-phone with a tie in through the United Nations, but then she remembered to whom she was speaking. Even in Arkham Asylum, Bruce Wayne maintained control.

"Why did Richard beat you up, or is that the effect you have on people now?" she asked, realizing that despite her efforts, the sarcasm was dripping through.

"Something is wrong with him, Diana," Bruce told her, not wasting time. "I think he's suicidal."

She straightened and ran through her mind a checklist of things that she should look for in depressed persons. The problem with Nightwing, like the Batman before him, was that he was too adept at hiding his feelings. Nobody was quite sure what was normal behavior for him. Certainly the last few weeks had been stressful with the Copy Cat incident and Obsidian murdering Roy Harper, but she could not see that he was any more upset than he should have been.

"I think it's something that has been building in him for a long time, something that may go back as far as when Donna Troy was killed," Bruce said, bringing up Wonder Woman's twin sister. She had been called Troia and had been one of Nightwing's best friends. "He started to change, started to internalize his anger too much. I always tried to teach him to find positive ways to let the anger go…"

"Like putting on a cape and beating people up?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "I did the best I could given the circumstances; I gave him the same choices I had. There was nobody to show me what to do with my fury and I had to figure it out on my own." He shook his head. "I do not have to justify how I raised my son to you or anyone else," he said.

She nodded; he was correct, of course. He had done the best he could given his limited parental ability and training. And he was right that at least putting on the cape and tights was better than sticking a needle in your arm. Richard Grayson could have ended up living a life of a thousand horrors but had instead grown to be a hero. Was that so awful?

"Why would he be suicidal?" she asked.

"I think he…" Bruce started, unable to bring the words out. Did he tell her the truth? If she did she would immediately call a meeting of the team to hold a court-martial to have him removed. Worse yet, Bruce was well aware of how Superman had put all of his faith into Nightwing and was holding him up as the single light from the episode of darkness that surrounded the events of the Joker's death. "He is becoming overwhelmed with guilt; especially over me," he said, telling her enough of the truth to satisfy his sense of morality.

"But suicidal, Bruce? I'll admit he's been reckless lately, but we have all been under a lot of strain," she explained. "Green Arrow suddenly quit and left the team and her husband…"

"She's at the Manor," Bruce admitted. "Dick is…helping her deal with some issues."

"See? He's doing his best to help out a teammate. Does Bart know?"

Bruce shook his head. "No and let's keep it that way; we wouldn't want to start a scandal over nothing," he warned. "I just wanted you to know I think something is really wrong."

"What am I supposed to do, Bruce? Accuse him? He'll deny it and if I try to read his mind he'll go nuts, maybe even bring me up on charges. I have no evidence that he's doing anything that isn't ordinary for heroes from Gotham City," she said. "If we could predict when you Gothamites were going to go over the edge then maybe Clark or I could have stopped you."

"Sure," Bruce snickered. The his face changed, losing it's animation and draining of color. "I'm sorry that things did not work out."

"Ouch, that must have hurt," she said. Then she sighed and shook her head. "I am a warrior as well as a peacemaker. For many years I debated the merits of your actions, Bruce, and found them completely out of character, but I do not know if I would have acted differently if the Joker had murdered so many of my closest friends. You had to be insane at the time, there is no other logical explanation, and because of that, there is room for forgiveness on my part. I just need to hear your side; I need to know why you have not spoken to me for seven years. Amazons are long-lived but do not confuse that with being hard to anger. You hurt me and I believed then that you loved me and that made it hurt worse." She leaned in close to the monitor and almost reached out to caress his image. The old feelings were still there, just like it was yesterday. To an immortal Amazon, seven years was just a moment. "You seem much better."

"I am better. My mission is over, but my responsibilities still remain. I have another eight years in here before I can even be considered for release and if I escape then they will send you guys after me, deflecting resources from the Obsidian problem," he told her, his face regaining some color. "I love my son and I'm worried about him. Just talk to him, that's all I ask. I trust your judgment."

That got an eyebrow raised. "Really. Perhaps then we could talk a little more often?"

"If you will take my word that something is wrong with Dick, I'll be at your service," he promised.

The reply made her laugh and it was something that needed to come out. She had not felt this content in years. "I never thought I would see the day I would have to bargain with a man to get his attention! Very well, I will speak with Richard, hut I will not accuse. If I feel there is something to your fears, I will get back to you and we will bring Clark in as well."

The twitch in Bruce's eye told her that she had hit a nerve. Bruce respected Superman but did not think he had the experience necessary to deal with a subject like this. Still he was a powerful political force in the super-hero world and if Nightwing was having problems. Chances were a few words from the Man of Steel could have a positive effect. "Fine," he agreed.

They talked for a few minutes more until an orderly stepped into view and politely reminded Bruce that his time on the vid-phone was limited by state law, and that he had to get off. The former Batman thanked the orderly and then said his good-byes. "It was good to speak to you again," he said.

"I wish you well, Bruce Wayne," she replied honestly. Then the screen went black and she sat back, tapping a stylus to her chin. She then slowly moved her eyes up to the membership status board and it showed that neither Nightwing nor Superman was in the headquarters, but Impulse was on monitor duty. She wanted to let him know that Cissie was fine, but she also agreed with Bruce's assessment of the situation. Better to let her figure out what she needed to without bringing in innuendo to the mess.

She finished her research quickly and when she left the room, her mood was slightly more upbeat than it had been in seven years.

"The key to defeating Obsidian, according to the Batman," Nightwing said as he stood before the holographic projection of the villain, "is to get at him through his mind. For whatever reason, Obsidian always sees himself as the victim and he lashes out to try and get control. He used to turn to his sister for support, but over the years Jade began to distance herself from him."

"Do we know exactly why she did that?" the young Green Lantern asked. He appeared particularly interested in this subject because it dealt so much with the legacy of the wielders of the power ring. Obsidian was the son of the original Green Lantern Alan Scott and his sister, Jennie (a.k.a. Jade) had been a Green Lantern for a short time. "Did they have a big falling out or something?"

Wonder Woman answered. "Jennie and I spoke a few times on the subject and as near as I can tell, she began to suspect that her brother's interest in her was very unhealthy, almost obsessive."

"Aw, sick," Impulse added. "I mean, that is really not right."

"I couldn't agree more," Black Canary replied. She and Power Girl were part of the meeting, representing the Justice Society. It had been Superman who had influenced Nightwing to allow them to participate. The fact that both of them had belonged to the Justice League at one time (the Black Canary was an original founding member of the first and third incarnations of the team) was also another reason. "Todd was never playing with a full deck. One minute he was a hero, the next he becomes a villain. Then he loves his father, he hates his father, and he loves his father. Whatever he inherited from the magic that permeated Alan Scott really left him warped."

"Which brings up a second point: Obsidian's powers are magically based so there is no known way to counter them," Nightwing explained. "There is no normal prison on Earth that can hold him and according to Zatanna and Mr. Miracle, there is nothing in the magical worlds that will work either."

"So, how do we defeat someone who can travel anywhere and can't be held back?" Green Lantern asked.

Nightwing shrugged. "In all of the times that both the JSA and the JLA have faced him, they have been unable to just beat him. They always have to trick him, just like the Batman did."

"I still don't see how that worked," Power Girl, the pessimist, said. She was Nightwing's age but looked as young as Green Lantern and he found it hard to sometimes take her seriously. She had two decades of experience under her cape and he knew she was as professional as the rest of them.

He took a quick second to take a look at Black Canary as well and he did not like what he saw. She was nineteen when she started being a super-hero and had gone non-stop ever since. In the two years since her lover, Cissie's father Oliver Queen, had died, she had seemed to age a decade. Leadership of the JSA seemed to be taking a heavy toll on her and Nightwing was amazed she was still going.

Especially given her medical condition he reminded himself. Five years earlier she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had to have both of them removed. The prosthetics she wore were made of advanced Thanagarian technology and looked and felt like the real thing, or so he had been told. Given the ample cleavage her costume allowed her to sport, it would seem she was comfortable with them but when he thought about all of the treatments she had gone through for so long, he was just shocked to see her up and around.

She had also been Barbara's best friend and seeing her stirred up the voices in his head. He tried blotting them out by concentrating on the subject at hand, but too many things were going on in his life for him to put up a defense. Then again he considered that maybe he shouldn't be putting up a defense; maybe he should just do what they say. After all, he had been ignoring them for years and he was miserable as hell.

"I think it has to do with turning his powers on himself," Superman said. "He can't seem to face his own immorality…he sees Obsidian as simply another person, not him. When Todd has to face what Obsidian has done, his mind shuts down and his powers overwhelm him."

"Leave it to the Batman to come up with that theory," Black Canary joked. "You have to admit, when he was good, he was good." She grabbed her herbal tea and blew on it a little. Taking a sip to wet her whistle, she continued. "I mean, I think what he did was fine and all…"

"Dinah," Nightwing interrupted. "We don't discuss things like that, okay? It's old business. The Batman is paying for the crime." Wonder Woman immediately noted that Nightwing had not said paying for _his_ crime; a slight difference in semantics but a major difference psychologically. It indicated something was hidden, but it could have been nothing more than poor grammar.

"Richard is correct, the Batman committed a grievous sin and now justice is being served," Wonder Woman said, waiting for Nightwing's reaction.

"Enough, okay? That is my father we're talking about," he said defensively. "Can we get back to discussing how we handle Obsidian?"

"I suggest we split into pairs and try to be everywhere that is a tempting target," Superman suggested. Nightwing nodded for him to continue. "Nightwing and Black Canary will stake out the grave of Alan Scott because there have been reports of dark shadows moving around it at night. Power Girl and I will head for Cairo where Jade is doing her humanitarian work in case Todd makes a play for her."

"Red Tornado and I will man the monitors with Impulse and Green Lantern on standby in the event Obsidian makes a move against one of the other teams," Wonder Woman told them. Green Lantern asked again how they were supposed to fight him.

"Talk to him," Nightwing said. "Try to reach the real person in there, not the fiend that has poisoned his soul."

Wonder Woman wondered if that were a cry for help; many suicidal persons often made such comments, trying to get someone to reach out and tell them not to do it, but she wasn't sure. She found herself at odds with her desire to respect Nightwing's privacy and her promise to check on him. The thought of using her limited telepathic abilities to just get a read on him was tempting, but again she understood the price that she would have to pay for doing so. The Martian Manhunter, a powerful alien telepath, lived for years isolated from the rest of his teammates because he had used his abilities to just try and get to know them. Not being from Earth, he was unsure of customs and social protocols and he had only wanted to try to fit in.

When it was learned he was probing minds, many heroes felt violated; some even compared it to the brutal crime of rape. Certainly it did not make him popular and it took many patient years on his part before he was finally accepted into the hero community whole-heartedly.

She knew that despite her popularity, if it were learned that she had used her powers on a comrade without permission, regardless of the reason, she would find herself receiving the cold shoulder from many of her friends. Was it worth it, especially if she were wrong?

"Diana, you disagree?" Nightwing asked. Wonder Woman realized she had been shaking her head.

"No, I'm sorry, I was a little distracted," she said.

Nightwing sighed. "We all have been for awhile now," he confessed. "Our membership has seen better days and a lot of our comrades are dying out there. I know I could use a break but now is not the time." Many of the members silently wondered if there would ever be a time that they could actually relax and enjoy life again.

The murder of so many heroes had emboldened the villains of the world and crimes perpetuated by metahumans were sharply on the rise. Many of the elder heroes, Superman chief among them, found themselves reluctantly being called back into active service for humanity.

Contrary to the most romantic notions of writers, super-heroes usually did not keep battling evil until they were cold in the grave. Many did, but many more would eventually distance themselves from the lifestyle as other things like family took precedence in their lives. Heroes like the Blue Beetle or Booster Gold had already faded into the background as each struggled with the hazards of domestic bliss.

But some heroes were married to their duties, people like Nightwing and Wonder Woman slowly began to consider the possibilities for that. Though he was in good shape for his age and far from being ready to retire, Nightwing had essentially destroyed any chances of his settling down when he broke off his relationship with the Huntress three years before. At the time they had both been members of the League and Wonder Woman remembered being a little jealous of them. But then they had suddenly broken up and the Huntress had left the team heartbroken and the Amazon found herself sympathizing with her former teammate.

After Batman had been arrested, Wonder Woman had locked herself away for many months, not associating with anyone from the world of metahumans. Only after Superman had found her and convinced her that her friends wanted to support her did she finally swallow her pride and come back to the fold. Still, Batman's sudden betrayal of his ideals and principles had eaten away at her conscience until she had almost convinced herself that he had not committed the crime, but was covering something up.

The possibility that the Joker's death had been an accident, that Batman had simply made a mistake had seemed plausible until she remembered whom it was she had been thinking of. The Batman _never_ made a mistake.

Or maybe she had not known him at all? Maybe he was as fallible as everyone else and he was simply better at hiding it?

Speaking with him as she had earlier, she realized that something simply was not right. Something did not make sense and it had more to deal with Nightwing than it did Batman. As vice-chair of the League, it was her responsibility to check into any concerns regarding the chairman.

As she watched Nightwing continue the meeting, outlining the plans, she could not help but shake an uncomfortable feeling. Was their leader lying to them? Was everything they thought was the truth for the last seven years nothing but lies? Everyone thought that the only person that knew what had actually happened that night had been the Batman, but now she wasn't sure. Nightwing was keeping a secret, but what it could it have been?

She knew that of she talked with Clark about it, he would reason that Nightwing had witnessed Batman murdering the Joker and that it had caused some sort of trauma. That seemed somehow too convenient, too neat.

Even after the meeting had broken up and most of the members had left, Wonder Woman found herself alone in the gymnasium, practicing several martial arts moves that Batman had shown her when they had been together. His knowledge of hand-to-hand combat rivaled the battle masters of her homeland, but that was nothing compared to the quickness of his mind. He was somebody who was not obsessed with being perfect; he was perfect. He was simply obsessed with maintaining the status quo.

She delivered a roundhouse kick to a bag and stopped as her foot hit the ground. An old creeping feeling was making its way up her spine, telling her that she was on the verge of some truth. Once she had been the goddess of truth and ever since her transformation back into a "mere" mortal, she had a certain affinity for all manner of truth. When she overlooked it, it nagged her.

For seven years she had put it off as nothing more than regret for not seeing the man she had fallen in love with for who he really was, but she now knew differently. He was older, yes, but he was the same man. Calmer maybe, but nowhere near crazy enough to kill somebody.

"Hera help me, I can't tell the truth from the lies. It's all so gray," she said. "My heart is confusing my mind, I need clarity."

Her eyes searched the room, seeking some sort of answer to materialize before her and they fell upon her golden lasso. Wrapped in it and commanded by Wonder Woman, those ensnared had no choice but to speak the truth. She walked over and picked it up, examining it. It originally had been her mothers, who had also been a Wonder Woman, and had passed to her not so very long before.

She wrapped a coil around her wrist. "What is it that I believe?" she asked herself, wondering if it were possible to get to the heart of the matter. "That Bruce did not kill the Joker," she replied and she nodded, knowing that it was a true statement.

"Do I believe Nightwing wants to hurt himself?"

The answer did not surprise her. "No."

"Do I believe Bruce?"

"Yes."

Now she was even more confused and she slipped the lasso off and plopped down onto the mat. Running a slender hand through her long dark hair, she decided that before she questioned Nightwing on Bruce's behalf, she would have to do a little more research. It would be good for her and maybe fro everyone else. She truly did not believe that Bruce killed the Joker, despite the fact that she acknowledged that it was possible that he had been temporarily insane at the time.

She blew out and fell back to stare at the ceiling. "Bruce, damn you; seven years later and you are still making me shake my head in wonder."


	9. Chapter 9

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Three and a half years earlier…

He stopped in front of the building, a massive stone structure protected by gargoyles and the ever-present spirit of God, or at least that was what he had been led to believe for most of his life. Dick Grayson had never considered himself very religious, but at the same time, when he looked back on his life as a whole, he could see where he had at least tried to let the Almighty into his heart every once in a while.

He remembered how it was when Bruce had first revealed the "Secret" as he put it, that he was the Batman and that he wanted to make Dick his partner. The young boy had thought his prayers had been answered, that he would be able to right the wrongs that had been perpetuated against his parents and everything would be okay after that. Through Bruce he was able to bring closure to his feelings on his parent's deaths, but he never felt things were okay after that.

He held no grudges against God but had in fact learned over the years to be thankful for the things he had in his life. So many times as both Robin and Nightwing he had seen the worst in human beings, had borne witness to untold suffering and he knew that he had been blessed to have been found by Bruce. It was Bruce that gave him, more or less, a positive outlet for his feelings. He could not even begin to imagine what he could have become if left to the care of the state or even the Haly Circus.

He could have become a thief or a drug dealer. Worse, he thought, a murderer.

He caught his breath as he remembered that he was a murderer. Worse than that, he had condemned his guardian angel to imprisonment in Hell for a crime he had not committed.

Dick closed his eyes and prayed that God would make it just a dream, but when he opened them, the snow was still falling outside the church and he was still a killer.

The day Bruce had been apprehended by Superman, Nightwing had fallen to his knees and begged to be forgiven, but he never felt the lifting of guilt from his heart. He never truly understood why and for a little over three years he had avoided this confrontation, this showdown between himself and his Creator. But something new had come up and he felt the need to bare his soul once more for his Lord to look upon.

He craved judgment and punishment so he could move on, but it never came. In fact, if anything, his life was getting better. After Bruce's arrest and the public revelation of Batman and Nightwing's secret identity, Dick actually found that his life was less complicated. Super-villains for the most part avoided him, afraid that he would simply hire someone to take care of them (the rumors among many evil-doers was that the Bat family was changing to more lethal tactics).

Then about two years prior he began to date Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress. At first he thought it was simple lust, or a need to replace Barbara, but over time they both began to grow on each other. Helena had also become fond of Barbara and her death, along with the Batman's fall, had convinced her that if she did not change her ways she too would become a victim of what was being coined as "Gotham's Madness". And so it was a kinder, more compassionate Huntress that had captured his heart.

He had hoped that her presence would help heal the wounds in his soul, but even now he could still feel the pain. He had avoided talking to Bruce; unsure of what you say to someone who is willing to be crucified for your sins. He looked again to the church and realized that crossing the street and entering the building was turning out to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

He started to step off the sidewalk when someone grabbed his shoulder. The grip was not menacing; years of martial arts training had trained him to detect malice even in the lightest touch. Slowly he turned, half expecting to see an autograph hound. Nightwing/Dick Grayson was a regular celebrity in Gotham City.

What stood before him was a being that, if the stories were true, was older than mankind itself. He was taller than Dick by a full head, with pale gray skin that was accented by dark eyes. He possessed wings, a trademark of his kind and his golden armor shined like the sun. He knew, however, that if anyone were to look, they would not see him. His presence was meant for Dick only.

Zauriel was an angel, Heaven's former ambassador to Earth and a one-time member of the Justice League, long before Dick had joined. "Where are you going, Dick?" the angel asked. His voice was a deep baritone, almost musical in its tone.

"I thought I'd talk to your boss," Dick replied, shrugging off the hand. He did not like explaining himself to a being that probably already knew more about Dick's life than Dick did. Zauriel was one of the few beings in existence that actually knew what he had done. All sin was open to the eyes of the angel, yet he was bound not to speak a word of what he knew. For a human that would be a terrible burden and Dick had no way of knowing if it was any better for an angel.

"The house of the Presence is meant for those who are willing to release their sin and give it up in exchange for forgiveness," Zauriel explained.

Dick nodded. "Yes, I know…"

"You do not seek forgiveness," Zauriel interrupted. He took a deep breath, an indication that he was working hard to maintain his composure. Over the years Zauriel had become more and more conservative in his thinking. "You seek justification."

Dick was speechless for a moment and then shook his head. The angel had it wrong. "Listen, Zauriel, I appreciate the pep talk and all, but I've been going to church since I was a little boy. I think I know what I want to talk to God about."

The angel shook his head. "You have no idea how your arrogance wears my patience thin." He leaned down and folded his arms over his chest. Dick realized for the first time that Zauriel was huge by human standards and he did not seem to mind trying to intimidate others with that characteristic. Dick, however, had been trained by the best not to be intimidated. "You say you want forgiveness, but the Presence knows that all you want to do is argue your point, to somehow get a pass on your sin."

"Well, smart guy, if you knew me then you would know that I believe that my sins have been forgiven…"

"It is not automatic," Zauriel barked. "You humans get lazier with every generation," the angel snapped. Dick was taken aback by the sudden rage in Zauriel's voice, but then he had to admit he never truly understood the angel or his mission on Earth. Once he had been a Guardian, but he had failed that duty when he fell in love with his charge. Cast from his vocation, he wandered Earth for a time until he discovered a plot in Heaven to change the status quo. He enlisted the help of the Justice League and later joined the team for a short while.

After that Zauriel seemed to wander the world, exploring the mystery of humanity and why it was so different from his own existence. Now, after having spent so much time with humans, he appeared jaded and judgmental. Perhaps that was what he needed to be, Dick did not know; what he was sure of was that he was not very appreciative of the angel horning in on his private business with God.

If Zauriel knew his thoughts, he did not show it. "You want the Presence to tell you that what you did was alright, that humanity is better off for it, because that is what you believe. It is what you have told yourself so that you can look at yourself in the mirror in the morning, Dick Grayson."

"Hey, buddy, you may want to believe you're the Spectre or something…"

"You should be glad that the Angel of Vengeance has not come to see you, murderer," Zauriel said. The jab struck Dick in the heart and he nearly backed up a step. "You were given a gift, the gift of free will and in the end you chose to act like an animal. If you were truly sorry, I would escort you into the whole of the Presence myself and plead your case…"

"But?" Dick asked.

"You aren't sorry, are you?" Dick looked away and Zauriel reached out and grabbed his face, turning it back towards him. "You are still happy you did it, aren't you?"

Dick closed his eyes. "Yes," he whispered and all of the pain, guilt and anguish that had been bottled up inside of him for years came pouring out in one giant sob. "I am happy I did it. Despite what happened to Bruce and everything else, I'm glad I did it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"There can be no forgiveness for you, Dick Grayson. You don't want it."

Dick pulled away and stepped towards the edge of the sidewalk. There was no traffic at this time of night and the snow was falling lightly. It was quiet, a cold silence that you could taste in the air. "I asked for forgiveness; God knows that," he said in a low voice. "You know it!"

"Was it the Presence that you fell to your knees for, Dick Grayson? Was it really? I know what is in your heart and mind, you cannot lie to me. I am one of the first, created long before your kind was even an idea. I know the hearts of men."

Dick whirled around. "Alright! Fine! I asked Barbara to forgive me, to forgive me for not being there to protect her!" His anger welled up. "I came here to make amends with God, to talk to him to see if we can come to some sort of compromise. He let Barbara down and I fixed it."

Zauriel's features softened suddenly. "Oh, sad little man, you affix blame to He who is blameless. Your own sadness, your guilt has overwhelmed your sense of right and wrong. You do not deal with Presence; you accept Him."

"If God is good then why did Barbara have to die? Why? Can you answer that, angel?" Dick felt his blood pressure rising, but he did nothing to will it down. It felt good to let loose on the angel, to let him know just what a low down stinker he thought his boss was. "She deserved better than what God gave her."

"And murdering the Joker somehow made it better?"

"Yes, damn it! The Joker was a mistake, a fluke, an evolutionary misstep and I fixed it for God!" Dick turned and looked at the church, realizing there was no way he could enter it with a clean heart and mind. He could not kneel before the cross and ask forgiveness for his sins. If an angel could see through his lies, then surely the Lord would not be fooled either. "Why must the price be so high?"

"You are unworthy of an answer. Your life is wasted unless you open your heart and accept that what you did was wrong…"

No. It. Wasn't." Dick said slowly. "The Joker was a mistake…"

"How can you worship a God you find flawed? Your argument makes no sense, Dick Grayson. You foul the air around you with your lies and deceit."

Dick wanted to say more, but he knew that it was pointless. The angel would stop him from entering the church and so he turned and started to walk away. Zauriel called after him. "Open your heart, Dick Grayson. Understand that what you did was wrong. Yours is a special soul that nobody wants to see condemned."

Dick paused. "So I'm damned. It doesn't matter what good I do, or have done…it doesn't matter that I've saved the world a dozen times over? I'm damned because I killed a worthless piece of garbage that murdered hundreds of innocents?" He turned back to Zauriel. "If that's the price I have to pay, then so be it. It wasn't wrong!"

He stepped into her apartment and watched as she stepped out of the bedroom, clad only in the flesh she had been born in. Her silhouette reminded him of a redheaded woman he had loved so long before. Helena stepped into the light and mindlessly scratched underneath a breast. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard of anyone taking a long walk to decide whether or not to accept a marriage proposal," she said as she walked over to slide her arms around him.

She kissed him on the lips and did not feel the warmth that should have been there. Before she even spoke, she knew what his answer would be. "You don't want to marry me?" she asked.

He sighed and took a step back. She was beautiful and intelligent and he had to admit, he probably was in love with her, but that didn't matter. Helena had killed before, but she had made her peace with God and it was one of the reasons, he felt, that had caused her to change so abruptly. There was something about facing your crimes and accepting punishment that gave you a renewed sense of purpose.

Yet he still did not see what he had done to the Joker as a crime. Letting Bruce take the fall was a crime and it was something he wanted to pay for. He wished it would be so easy, that he could just walk into the Gotham City Police Department HQ and tell them he was the true murderer! But Batman had fixed it so that could never happen.

"It isn't that," he said finally. He saw that his life was about to change again, but not because of anything happy. There was no joy in this moment, this very instance in time when he should have been delirious with excitement about the future. Instead he saw red eyes staring at him from the darkness, beckoning him to join them. Helena was a radiating light, she was a path he could follow, but he feared that his damnation would spread to her.

He could see the look in her eyes and he knew that this was a woman who loved him deeply and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him that he could tell her the truth. If there was anyone on the planet that could understand what he was going through, the guilt and confusion, but also the need to let the world know eh was not wrong, it was her. She had killed criminals in the past and she would never be prosecuted for them. Why was it she could receive forgiveness and he couldn't?

"I do love you, Helena," he said finally. "But I can't marry you. I can't make that kind of commitment. I know how devout you are, how you want a wedding and a marriage that is…holy…"

"Dick, for God's sake, I'm not a nun. We have sex two, three times a day, sometimes more; it isn't like I'm that devout," she offered.

"How devout do you have to be?" he asked, and then he shook his head. "I'm not ready to be married," he lied. The truth was that he honestly wanted to say yes.

'I can't be in a relationship that is going nowhere, Dick," she said, tears forming in her eyes. She reached down for a robe that was draped over the couch and put it on, effectively putting a barrier between them. They both knew it was over, but they were somehow compelled to talk it into the ground. "Is it because of Barbara? Dick, I know you loved her…"

"Yes, I did," he said, holding up a hand. He wanted to tell her that he had thought he would never find love again after Babs had been killed, that he felt his life had been over. It was Helena that had brought light to his darkness that had convinced him that maybe Bruce was right, that he could make a real difference in the world. Maybe even figure out a way to get Bruce out of Arkham and have him accept it. "I loved her very much and I guess I've never gotten over her," he said. It was a convenient excuse.

"I don't want this to end," she whispered. "You're my life, my heart and my soul."

"I'm a damned fool," he told her and then slowly he turned around and moved for the door. He didn't look back or even say good-bye. They were useless gestures. The damage was done, but it was damage he felt was necessary. In this way she would have the opportunity to find someone else, someone who would love her and not drag her down the dark path. That was all he saw ahead of him as he walked down the stairs to the apartment building lobby; a tunnel of pure bleakness awaited him.

He took in a deep breath and moved forward, cursing the darkness and the light, both had betrayed him. The he started to think, if his soul was damned, what was the purpose. If he could not reconcile that what he did was wrong, what was the point of continuing on with life?

Two days later, the Huntress offered her resignation as an active member of the Justice League.

The League chairman at the time was Superman and he called an emergency meeting of the remaining members to vote on a roster change. "Without the Huntress," the Man of Steel started, "we are down one member and I have also learned that the Flash plans on leaving as well."

Nightwing remained quiet at the far end of the table, sitting at the chair that Batman had once filled. Nobody had said anything, but all were painfully aware that the romance between him and the Huntress was over and that it had been the main contributing factor to her exit.

Wonder Woman leaned forward. "I understand that the Flash has some suggestions for replacements."

The Scarlet Speedster stood up and smiled. He was Nightwing's best friend, but even he could not seem to get through the funk that surrounded the dark hero. He decided to try and make the best of it, keeping an upbeat attitude to see if maybe it would catch. "I'd like to spend more time in Central City since I'm officially moved there," he said.  The Flash had moved from city to city over the last few years, trying to find someplace he could truly call home. "My nephew, Bart, is old enough now that I think he could replace me on the team," he said. On cue, the door to the meeting room opened and the hero Impulse stepped in.

There were some polite introductions as the Flash read off the impressive resume of the other speedster. When it finally came to a vote, all voted in favor of having Impulse immediately replace the Flash. "But that isn't all folks!"

The Flash seemingly disappeared as he ran at super-speed to the other side of the headquarters and scooped up another individual. He popped back into view with a blonde-haired woman in his arms. "My nephew's wife, Cissie-King-Queen-Allen," he announced.

Nightwing looked up and saw the young woman he had once known as Arrowette, back in the days when she had been part of Young Justice. He noted, with some piggish male satisfaction that she had grown up quite well. In fact, she was beautiful in every sense of the word. A former Olympic athlete and a Rhodes scholar, she seemed mismatched with Impulse, her husband. While super-intelligent, Bart Allen was something of a mess, never able to commit to one discipline at a time. He had attended college for several years, but had no degree. "She is thinking about becoming the next Green Arrow," the Flash announced.

Cissie looked over at Nightwing and their eyes flashed. There was no doubt about the attraction, but he tried to push it out of his mind. She was much younger and married.

But then, he was damned already anyway, so what did it matter?

"She's reluctant to speak up," the Flash said, elbowing her.

Cissie blushed. "It's been awhile since I had the old fighting togs on, but Bart seems convinced I can do it…carry on my father's name," she said with very little confidence. This was the Justice League after all!

"I say give her a chance," Nightwing said without thinking. He realized then that he was already fantasizing about her and he was positive she had the same thought as him. Would he do it, would he really try to seduce the younger wife of one of is teammates?

Well, he thought, how much worse could it get for him?


	10. Chapter 10

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

"How come you never asked me out?"

Nightwing turned away from his cup of coffee and regarded Black Canary with a sarcastic smile. It was the last question he had ever expected to hear from her and it broke the monotony of their stakeout. He was glad for it. "To be honest, Dinah, I just was never really interested."

She put a mock look of hurt on her face. "Too old for you?"

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "No, I think it was more because of your relationship with Roy." For a moment they were quiet as each remembered the fallen hero. Nightwing took another drink of his coffee, letting the caffeine sooth the beasts within his mind; they seemed to really like it. "I know you aren't much older than me, but Roy described you more as a mother than as the hot chick his adoptive father was dating."

"So, I was a hot chick back in the day, was I?" she asked, uncapping her purified water.

Nightwing gave her a quick once over. She had not lost much of her beauty, but again the sickness that had ravaged her had also left its mark. In her younger days she had been vibrant, a blonde bombshell that most male heroes went to sleep thinking about. More than once Nightwing had caught himself imagining herself naked next to him in bed, but it never went beyond a fantasy. Her love for the original Green Arrow was simply too well known. "You're still hot," he answered. "Just a lot more cranky."

"I haven't had sex for three years, dear; that is enough to make you a little hostile," she remarked. "Rich pretty boy…man like yourself probably has some young thing stashed away at the manor," she joked.

Nightwing said nothing but instead pulled out his Justice League messenger and checked it. Black Canary leaned over and gave it a quick glance. "You know, when we started the League, I don't think we ever imagined it would get to this point." Nightwing regarded her as she spoke. "I mean the League has survived so much, so many members…"

"I know," he agreed. "I remember when Superman nominated me for the chairman's position…I suddenly realized that I was being asked not to just lead a team, but guide something legendary." He did not bother to tell her about his private conversation with the Kryptonian right after the nomination. For hours Nightwing had tried to beg off, suggesting that Wonder Woman or Hawkwoman, who was a member at that time, would have been a better choice. But Superman could not be swayed and Nightwing had been able to tell that the Man of Steel saw Nightwing's ascendancy to the top position as a way to erase the darkness that Batman's fall had caused.

It only became worse as Nightwing was re-elected to the position a year later. "I'm thinking about leaving, though," he told her. In fact he had wanted to leave for years, ever since he and Helena had broken up. The League was a place of honor, respect and justice. His presence tainted it. Yet, he knew that by being on the team, he could do something positive. "I just haven't found a replacement."

"Well, the Bat family is kind of thin these days. Did you know the Robin that was killed?" she asked.

He shook his head and downed the last of the coffee. "I thought she might have been related to Tim or Steph, but it turns out she was just someone obsessed with the way things used to be in Gotham City." He sighed and crumpled his cup. "I tried to warn her off, but she just gave me the typical teenager attitude."

"Bruce would have scared her off," she commented.

Nightwing choked and quickly pointed out that Barbara, when she had first appeared on the scene as the original Batgirl. Both Batman and Robin had tried to convince her that the life of a super-hero was not a vocation she wanted to pursue. But she had resisted and finally even the Batman, terror of the night, had to give in and he agreed to train her to make sure she did not get herself killed.

They both laughed about when they considered how Batman seemed to have a soft spot for the women of Gotham that had fought for him. They spent the next few minutes reminiscing about their adventures when they were younger until Black Canary turned away and looked out her polarized window. "Dinah?" Nightwing asked, wondering what was wrong.

She sobbed once, then twice, before speaking in a cracked voice. "It's so hard, sometimes, carrying on after them. Ollie. Barbara. Roy. Barry. Ralph. This job sucks."

He nodded and said nothing, his own thoughts turning inward as he contemplated the same thing. In his war on crime, Batman had enlisted many troops and like any good commander, he had realized that there was a danger to their mission. Some got hurt and some died, but always the war carried on.

How many casualties had to mount before it became apparent that the cure was doing as much harm as the disease? Heroes were an outdated notion, something that worked fine in the so-called Golden Age, back when criminals had some sort of honor code. The criminals of the era of the Batman were something else entirely. "Did you really mean it when you said you thought Bruce had done the right thing?" he asked.

Black Canary turned quickly; her eyes were wet with tears. "Oh, God, yes! He killed Barbara, Dick!"

"I know who he killed," he reminded her.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I do sometimes forget. I guess I try to monopolize her in my mind; I don't even want to share her memory with anyone." Again they were silent and Nightwing, for just a moment, saw in her face the visage of a much younger woman.

Years before, after the Black Canary had put the League behind her for good, she had become a partner to Oracle, the cyber-sleuth identity that Barbara had adopted after the Joker had paralyzed her. Together they formed Birds of Prey, a loosely knit band of female crime fighters that dealt with criminal problems from the mundane to the most dire. They had become very close friends. Nightwing had never really thought about how Barbara's death had affected the other hero. "I know you miss her," he offered.

"I've gone through so much, Dick, I really have. The cancer. Ollie's death and Roy's murder." She reached over and pressed the release button for the door and it opened quickly on hydraulic power. Nightwing did not mind stepping out into the night air; it wasn't a typical stakeout. They were situated across the street from the headquarters of the Young All-Stars, a relatively new team of heroes, made up of older teens and young adults. Not a single veteran was among them and Batman suspected that they would be one of Obsidian's targets.

Nightwing moved to the front of the vehicle and sat on the hood. Black Canary soon joined him. "She loved you so very much, Dick. She really did."

"I know," he replied, not really believing it. How could she have ever loved someone who could not protect her? "She loved you, too."

The Canary nodded and pulled out a handkerchief. Nightwing noticed that it was monogrammed with "O.Q." on it and he wondered how long she had held onto it. "She was my absolute best friend, more so than even Ollie, and you know how much I cared about Ollie," she said. He did know; Oliver Queen spent most of his relationship with Black Canary apologizing for cheating on her. "That giggling bastard cut her up," she said, anger set in her voice. The wounds were still fresh for her as well.

"I know," he said.

"No, I don't think you do, Dick. He cut her up…he cut up another human being because he thought it was funny. Or maybe he thought it was art. God, who gives a damn what his reasons were? Everyone screams about how his life was worth something, but I say anyone who does something like that isn't alive…they're anti-life!" She began to ball her hands into fists and Nightwing remained quiet. Her perspective was fresh and new, but it was also very angry. Was that the way he was, angry all of the time? No wonder demons fed on him constantly.

"How can they say every life is equal? Can you tell me that someone like Barry Allen, who died fighting the Anti-Monitor and saved the entire universe is just as important as the Joker?" She let loose with a couple of choice curse words and then they were quiet once again.

After about ten minutes, Nightwing turned to her. "I think he deserved to die, too," he told her.

"Two vid-calls in forty-eight hours, Bruce," Wonder Woman said. "I'm beginning to think that you might have a crush on me."

"Your sense of humor has improved with age, Diana," the former Batman replied. She felt a chill run down her spine when she looked at him. There was no doubting what it was; she was still in love with him. She comforted herself with the fact that he would be out of prison in a few years.

"I certainly hope that you've improved with age," she told him. He laughed and told her that he was ready for some quiet time reading books and tending his rose garden. "Seems like an odd way for a Batman to spend his retirement," she said.

"I'm a convicted murdered, Diana," he said and she felt the lie in his words. She said nothing, though, trying to figure out what everything meant on her own. She wanted to try to see if what she and Bruce had seven years before could be saved. She was patient and he was stubborn. Making any sort of accusation about what had happened to the Joker without proof could ruin everything.

It was not that she needed Bruce Wayne in her life; it was that she wanted him. A child of tragedy, he had allowed himself to be formed into a powerful warrior. There was something ancient about that and it was one of the reasons she was so attracted to him. His aging, as she had told herself before, was a problem that could be overcome if he allowed it. "I suppose you are correct," she told him. It was not a lie; he was convicted as a murderer though she had her doubts about the validity of that verdict. "Why have you called, Bruce?" she asked.

"Have you spoken with Dick?" he asked.

She shook her head and blew out. "Bruce, we have a real situation here. The League is way under strength; we are having to activate our reserves…"

"Yes, I know, Black Canary and Power Girl, but that's to be expected. The League needs to be kept small in order to prevent world governments from complaining it is getting too powerful," he said, not bothering to explain how it was he knew about the change in the League membership. "But surely you can see there is something wrong here, Diana."

"I see a man who might or might not be depressed, Bruce," she told him. "One of his best friends was murdered before his eyes and he has had a confrontation with his father in recent days," she explained before pointing out that Bruce appeared to be healing nicely. "Is there something more you can give me?" she asked, hoping for a break-through.

He remained stoic. "The events of seven years ago deeply hurt him. I thought that maybe by now, being involved in the work of the League, doing good and all, would have had a more positive effect in him. I was wrong. He's kept his anger internalized."

"I thought that was Gotham City 101," she said. "I want the truth, Bruce."

"The truth is that I was a bad father. The truth is that I should have devoted a little more time to him instead of the cape. I'm only sorry that it took the death of a man to get me to see that," Bruce replied and he suddenly looked very tired. "Please, just sit down with him and ask him some honest questions about how he's feeling."

"Suicidal?" she asked again, not believing it. "I just don't see it, Bruce. Dick has always been so strong…"

Bruce sighed and looked to the overhead. "God help me…"

"The truth, Bruce…"

"The truth is that you need to talk to him," he said before breaking the link.

"We staked out the Young All-Stars HQ all night long," Nightwing said as he stumbled into the bedroom. Cissie was on the bed in a yoga position, nude as always. It was almost a habit for her to take off her clothes the second she entered the bedroom. "Nothing."

"Just a question, lover," she asked as she inhaled deeply. He stood there and watched the gentle sway of her breasts, feeling the lust stirring in his loins. The voices told him to take her, that the rings she wore on her finger were nothing but an empty promise. He knew about such things, like his oath to never kill. It had been a promise made in the heat of the excitement of becoming the partner of the Batman. A child could not understand that some things had to be killed in order for there to be justice. Justice was blind, but it didn't have to be stupid. "Who is watching Gotham City while you're making out with Black Canary?"

"We weren't making out," Nightwing said. "She's too good a friend."

"Really?" Cissie asked, her eyes suddenly getting a harsh glare to them. "Then I must be your worse enemy after what we did last night."

Nightwing shook his head and pulled off his shirt. "That isn't what I meant and you know it," he said before tossing the dirty clothing at her. She caught it and threw it to the side of the bed where her own clothes lay. "Bart talked to me again today," he said.

Cissie's expression soured. "You're going to tell me I need to explain how I really feel, aren't you?" He started to say yes, but then he figured what was the use? He was a murdered, a liar and an adulterer; it was a little late to be trying to act like a family counselor. "Well, I've decided that after I find out what sex the baby is, I'm going to."

"Why wait?" he asked as he slipped out of his pants and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and before he could step in, she brushed past him and got in it herself. "It's simply a point in time I've reserved for the occasion,' she said a she wetted her hair.

He stepped in and half an hour later, after they had made love, they both stepped out and resumed the conversation. "Isn't kind of cruel to keep him in the dark like this?" he asked her.

She shrugged and her attitude took him off guard. Ever since she had moved in with him she had been acting strangely, or at least differently. She was losing some of her innocence being with him. It made sense; create a den of evil and you will corrupt everything in it he mused.

They continued to talk until she tried to coax him into bed for some sleep. He refused, telling her he was still wound up and needed to get a drink. She climbed under the covers and he tucked her in, receiving a long passionate kiss for his troubles. "Come on, Bat-Mite," he said to his faithful dog. Together they made their way to the library and the portable bar.

He poured himself a double shot of whiskey and downed it in one swallow before pulling out a doggy treat from a special compartment. Bat-Mite gracefully accepted the kibble and then moved over to one of his many beds that were scattered throughout the house.

Standing in front of the giant window that personified the library, he sipped at a second drink and thought about the way things used to be. He remembered being innocent, or at least being man enough to take responsibility for his actions. In the old days, he never would have allowed Bruce to accept his punishment and he wondered why he had allowed it to begin with.

Maybe he still had some resentment towards Bruce for his childhood? Was it really that bad, he thought? Taking another drink he had to conclude that it had been. After his parent's murder, young Dick Grayson had needed love and attention, not vengeance. Revenge was something that only fools found comfort with.

The only love that he could remember, besides the caring hand of loyal Alfred, was Barbara. He couldn't say when it had happened, though he could recall their first kiss like it was yesterday, but he could definitely say that beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was she that made him feel complete. When she was gone, it was like the world no longer belonged. His mind told him that the second she stopped breathing the world was supposed to end.

But it hadn't and instead he was living a personal purgatory, his soul roasting in the fires of his own despair. Without even thinking he opened a small drawer in the table next to the window and put his hand on the pistol that was there. Most people believed that the Batman completely abhorred guns, but they did not realize that it was not the weapon, but the way they were employed that bothered him. Guns, like hammers and wrenches, were tools, and when used properly they served a useful function. In fact, the Batman was a marksman, perhaps one of the best in the world.

The pistol in the drawer was special. It had been specifically made to use a Kryptonite bullet, a bullet provided to the Batman by Superman in the event he ever lost control. Superman understood that the Batman would use the bullet if necessary. Ironic in a way when one thought about it.

He picked up the weapon and watched as the safety light turned green, indicating that his fingerprints had matched the set burned onto the memory chip in the grip. Only he or Bruce could fire the weapon if required and now it was ready to go. Inside the chamber sat the Kryptonite bullet.

If he shot Superman with it, he would die. The radiation from the radioactive mineral would eventually weaken the Man of Steel to the point he would not be able to breathe and he would suffocate. If he shot himself with it….

The truth was that the nature of Kryptonite had not been studied very well. Prolonged exposure tended to give the recipient cancer, but there was no empirical data to indicate what would happen if someone shot themselves in the chest with a bullet made of the alien metal. He stared at the gun in his hand and wondered, tried to think of what sort of pain would be involved with the action. Was there any pain, or was it shock, the realization that you were about to leave the mortal plane?

_Why do you want to die, Richard?_

He never knew where that single voice came from, the light in the sea of darkness that was his mind. It did not speak often to him, did not make itself the Alpha Male of the pack of demonic wolves that prowled through the corners of his brain. When it did speak, it was with a voice of concern and he sometimes wondered if it were her…Barbara.

He took another drink and considered the question. Why did he want to die? Was it so he could face some sort of punishment for his crimes or did he secretly desire a private audience with God so he cold plead his case, as Zauriel had thought so many years before? Surely God would understand, even if he wasn't so sure anymore.

He finished off the remainder of his whiskey, all the while twirling the weapon with one finger in the other hand. He had no fear of it going off and in fact secretly dared it to. Even if it went off, the chances of the bullet actually hitting him were pretty slim, and then it actually hitting something vital was even more of a rare chance. Still, it was not something he would have wanted his child doing and that made him stop.

A stray bullet might hit Cissie and harm either her or his child, which he was disturbed to discover he had no feelings for. He wished it no harm, but he also prayed that she would just take herself and their unborn child and leave. His poison was spreading quickly now and he wondered if it were a sign of the endgame. He looked down at the weapon and saw that the barrel was aimed straight at his head.

His finger twitched for the briefest of moments and then he relaxed, replaced the weapon back in its drawer and went to pour himself another drink.


	11. chapter 11

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Nightwing called the meeting to order and remained standing as Wonder Woman read off the official minutes of the last gathering. Around the table was the current membership and he suddenly realized that he was in command of most likely the greatest force for good that had ever existed. Unlike the League incarnations of old, this was one made up mostly of battle-hardened veterans. The only exception was Green Lantern and what he lacked in experience he was making up for in enthusiasm, as always.

"Before we move on to any new business, is there any old business we need to discuss?" he asked.

Black Canary raised her hand. "I want to know why we are tapering off on our scouting for Obsidian," she asked. It was a question he had been expecting from her. The nights they had spent together watching the headquarters of the Young All-Stars had done nothing to improve her desire for revenge. Not that he blamed her.

"It has been three weeks and no sign of him, not a peep. We simply cannot maintain the vigilance that we have been," Nightwing explained. "The second we get a clue or a hint as to where he is, we'll be there. I want him as bad as anyone else, but there simply aren't enough of us to keep this up."

"We could call in the reserves," Power Girl suggested. She had been harping that point for over a week now and Nightwing saw in her another Copy Cat. However, Power Girl was the last person besides Wonder Woman that he wanted to tangle with.

"I agree we could call in the reserves," Nightwing acknowledged, "but to what end? How long do we keep the reserves activated, Karen? How long before they grow complacent and end up dead?"

The table was silent for several moments as each member took the words to heart and tried to come up with some sort of answer for their leader. All of them wanted to continue the vigilant watch for Obsidian, but their leader was correct when he pointed out there really was nothing more they could do. "The Batman provided us with some very well-intended information, but it was wrong," he said, not noticing the distressed look on Wonder Woman's face. If Batman had been wrong about Obsidian's next move, couldn't he have been wrong about some other things?

Black Canary asked Superman for his opinion. Nightwing graciously allowed the Man of Steel to speak his mind. "I think that Nightwing is correct; we are all exhausted. All of us have been running on empty for quite some time. I retired from all of this, remember?" he joked and the rest of the members laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "I've got a wife at home that misses me."

"But he'll be back," Black Canary countered. "Shouldn't we do something? Anything?"

Power Girl put a hand on her shoulder but the Blonde Bombshell would not be silenced. "Let the Justice Society take point on this Nightwing," she pleaded. "I know we're not the Justice League, but we aren't pushovers either."

"I considered that, Dinah, I really did, but the point is that Obsidian will come after the League. We are the ultimate legacy of his father. The Society still exists, but we inherited the mantle of responsibility from the first heroes." It was one of his better speeches, Wonder Woman had to admit to herself. "We cannot shirk that responsibility no matter how easy it would be to do so."

"It isn't shirking," Black Canary countered, her ire up. This had been, Nightwing suspected, her plan all along. She knew, somehow, that Obsidian would go into hiding for a while and she wanted to use that lull to get the go ahead to let her Justice Society assume the case.

"Dinah, my decision is made. I'm the chair of the Justice League," Nightwing finally said. Black Canary pursed her lips and then nodded. "You're right, Dick; this is the League and it is yours. Effectively immediately, I resign from reserve status. I don't like a League that won't take action. This isn't the team I helped form."

"Dinah…"

"No, Diana," the heroine said to Wonder Woman. "I respect the hell out of all of you, even little Green Weenie there; but this is too serious. We have to hunt down Obsidian and stop him before more heroes die."

"If I might offer an opinion," Superman started, "I think you are too personally wrapped up in this, Dinah."

Black Canary laughed. "The man who would have been my stepson had his heart forced out of his chest and you think I should be objective, Kal? No thank you, sir; I'd rather be pissed off." She turned to Power Girl. "Karen?"

Power Girl regarded her Justice League teammates and then gave Black Canary a once over. Though she had been League first, her heart and soul belonged to the Justice Society. "I suppose I resign as well, folks," she said with a heavy sigh. Green Lantern's eyes followed her chest. She smiled at him despite his gawking; he was cute for a young fellow. She had once had a crush on Hal Jordan, the second Green Lantern. How many years ago had that been, she wondered as she began to count.

She shrugged her shoulders and stood up, giving the Emerald Gladiator a wink. She would call him later. "I agree with Dinah. It is true that the League inherited from the Society, but we inherited directly from Alan Scott himself. If he were alive, this discussion would not be taking place. None of you would dare to defy him."

"But he isn't alive, Karen," Wonder Woman pointed out, hoping to avoid a complete disintegration of the team. She had seen the way Power Girl and Green Lantern had been looking at each other and she feared that the ring-slinger would follow his pelvis instead of his common sense. "Nightwing is correct; we are just going to have to wait. Too long at high alert and our senses will get strained. We will miss something."

"You might, but we won't. I've been at this longer than you, Diana, and no offense, but I have a more optimistic outlook," Black Canary said as she turned around. Without another word she and Power Girl walked out of the meeting room, leaving the other members speechless for a few moments.

Nightwing cleared his throat. "If anyone else disagrees with my decision to stand down from priority alert, they can probably catch up with them," he offered. There were no takers.

He sat down and blew out and suddenly looked very old. "Diana, we need to activate three of the other reserve members," he said. "Unless you know somebody who wants to go active."

"How about Kon-El?" Superman asked, referring to his clone, the former Superboy. The perpetually young man now called himself Super-Hero and was operating out of Mexico City. He was also the husband of the second Wonder Girl, which gave him an even closer tie to the membership.

Nightwing shook his head. "We offered him a spot when you first retired, Kal," he said, using the Man of Steel's Kryptonian name. Green Lantern was not aware, as far as they knew, that Superman and Clark Kent were the same person. "He turned us down, claiming that Mexico needed him more."

"But he doesn't speak Spanish," Superman said shaking his head. Despite his tone, it was obvious he was proud of the other hero.

"The Huntress has asked to be reactivated; she was fond of Roy Harper herself," Wonder Woman said. Nightwing hesitated for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Helena would be a good addition; we've missed her sorely."

"Some of us have," green Lantern joked, but nobody laughed. Red faced, the young hero excused himself, stating it was time for him to assume monitor duty.

Red Tornado suggested two more additions. "Black Lightning's daughter and a newer hero named August," the android offered.

"Route it through Diana," Nightwing said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He then looked over at Superman. "We really appreciate the help, old man."

Superman smiled. "Always glad to help out; you know I hate to leave you in a lurch," he said.

"You're not," Diana said. "We know we can call you if we need you," she added.

There was a small ceremony of handshaking and hugs, with Superman saying he was going to go to the lab to finish a small experiment he was conducting and then he would leave the headquarters.

Nightwing took the weight bar and pushed it up again, performing another repetition. He considered using the Justice League weight room the only real benefit of being on the team. He was only here to continue Batman's legacy; it was the least he could do. He understood what his father had done and why, but it still did not sit well with him.

He should have been allowed to take his own punishment, but Bruce Wayne had seen a situation spinning out of control and had taken charge immediately. It was his way of dealing with things, taking order and forcing it upon chaos. But it had not been the right solution.

Or was he simply telling himself that?

Why hadn't he ever come out and told anyone what he had done? If he was so right, if he truly believed that he had been justified in what he had done to the Joker, why didn't he proclaim it to the world?

He pushed the bar up one more time, his biceps and chest burning with fire through the muscle tissue. It was time to stop, but he suddenly decided not to. He silently dared God to exact judgment on him. If he could make another rep, then he had been right in killing the Joker. If not, then justice would be served.

He pushed the weight off of the stand and held it up, slowly lowering it to his chest. His lungs begged for air and his legs trembled in anticipation of the push to put the weight into the air. He started to lift, asking God for a sign when it suddenly lifted off of his chest with no effort. It was as if he had developed Kryptonian strength in the matter of seconds.

Diana stood over him, the bar easily being pulled up in her single-hand grip. "Good Lord, Dick, what are you trying to do, kill yourself?" she asked as she laid the bar on the rests.

Nightwing slowly cursed silently as he got up and looked at her. "Just because you slept with my father doesn't make you my mother," he said angrily.

She deflected the verbal blow with a sarcastic smile. "I can assure you that no sleeping was taking place." She stepped away from the workout bench and watched his face. She had startled him and his reaction was not all that atypical for him. But the way his eyes flashed, the thought she could sense behind them told her a different story. Suddenly, the warning that Bruce had given her did not seem so far fetched,

Granted, most super-heroes were actors. They developed the ability to play two parts at an early age, or at least early in their careers. They were trained liars. She decided then and there that now was the time to begin her interview of the former Teen Wonder. "I came down to ask you your opinion on something," she said.

Nightwing tried to shrug off the anger and embarrassment. He had not meant to snap at Diana so. "Sure, what is it?" he asked.

"I was wondering about Bruce's arrest, seven years ago," she said, beginning her narrative. "He was arrested based upon physical evidence collected at the scene of the Joker's murder, correct?" she queried.

Nightwing looked at her and brushed the sweat from his brow. "Yes, Bruce's fingerprints were found at the crime scene and there was a video of him removing his mask to pay homage to the dead body of Commissioner Gordon. This is old news, Diana," he told her with the hopes of ending the conversation quickly.

Wonder Woman seemed unaffected by his attempts to make her believe she was stating the obvious. The Amazon moved towards the wall and leaned against it, her hands carefully playing with her magic lasso. He eyed the golden rope with distrust. "Something about that has always bothered me," she confessed in her most innocent voice. Over the years, she had discovered that once men heard her speak in such a manner, they seemed to become more receptive to her commands.

Nightwing did not look at her as she moved around the bench to stand only a few feet away from him. Instead he put his towel over his face and pretended to be drying the sweat. "I mean he is the Batman after all."

"And?" Nightwing's muffled voice asked.

"The Batman would never make mistakes like that."

He slowly pulled the towel down and she saw something in his eyes that she had never really noticed. His eyes were beautiful, dark with thick lashes, the kind most women would die for. Yet, there was a dead look to them, as if he were rotting away from the inside out. "He wasn't in the right frame of mind," Nightwing told her.

"That's the story," she said, nodding. "Bruce was supposed to be one of the best forensic minds in the world, yet he made some of the most basic mistakes. He took his gloves off and left fingerprints. He took his mask off. He stepped in front of an operating camera." Nightwing still said nothing. "Let's face it, Richard; if Batman wanted to kill someone, none of us would have ever known about it."

He remained silent, unnervingly silent as she explained her train of thought. She hoped for more of a reaction, but he was stoic. "I knew Bruce…I know Bruce, Richard…"

"It seems to me that maybe you're having a harder time with his fall than I am," he lied.

She felt the pain in his voice and even he realized that it was a terrible untruth and neither one of them believed it. Her hand patted her lasso. "Bruce Wayne would have never killed the Joker, not for any reason in the world. He believes too strongly in the concept that all life is important…"

"What about her life, dammit?" Nightwing said, standing up so quickly that Wonder Woman stepped back out of reflex. "What about Barbara Gordon? You remember her, don't you? She was the woman whom the Joker murdered! The victim!" He threw down his towel. "Bruce is not the victim here!"

"Do you think Bruce killed the Joker?" she asked sternly.

"Have you ever read the autopsy report on Barbara? Huh, Diana? I have," he roared, jabbing his elbow to his chest. "He cut a piece of her off every hour that they waited for the Batman to show up. It took twelve hours to finish the job, six hours for her to die. Can you imagine that, Diana?"

Diana felt her eyes water. She had not been fully aware of the torture that Barbara Gordon had endured while in the Joker's sadistic care, nor had she ever wanted to know. She had encountered the Joker on rare occasions in her career and she could not help but be glad the madman was gone. But that was applying Amazon law to the situation, not the laws that Batman, Nightwing and herself were sworn to uphold.

In the Patriarch's World, everyone, regardless of who they were or what they had done, had the right to a fair trial. "There is no denying that what the Joker did to many people was cruel, was evil. I understand that, Richard, but I also understand that Bruce was always able to rise above that. Many saw him as a creature of the night but in truth he was an avenging angel."

"It's obvious you weren't raised by him!"

"This is not the time to be discussing some issue you have about your childhood…"

"Why not? You seem to think because you let Bruce get into your pretty blue panties there that somehow that qualifies you as a detective," Nightwing shot back. His face was turning red, blood red as the fury welled up in him. "He was my father and all he ever had to do was make sure the Joker never got out again!"

"He couldn't control that; he did the best he could!"

Nightwing seemed ready to argue the point, but held his tongue. Again she could tell he was scrambling to come up with a lie to tell her, but his mind was too sharp. He knew he couldn't come up with one she would believe. "Just stay out of this, Diana."

"Aren't you the least concerned that Bruce is paying for a crime he may not have committed?" she asked.

"No," he lied again. There was no more conviction in his voice this time than previous. "As you said, he's the Batman."

Nightwing turned around to leave when Diana called after him. "Do you want to die, Richard?"

He stopped and his broad shoulders slumped. For several long moments he stood there, his head hanging low. Wonder Woman resisted the urge to go to him, knowing that he would use it as an excuse to dodge the question. She needed to keep her distance and her aim true. 'No," he whispered, slowly turning around. "I just don't want to live without her."

His eyes exploded with tears. "That bastard killed the only thing in this world that ever made me truly happy after my parents died. He took it away so he could be the sickest villain in Gotham City. For a title, that's all…he killed the woman I loved so that he could hold a title."

"And you truly believe that Bruce murdered him to avenge you? Richard, that makes no sense and you know it!" she said, still not quite sure of what to do. It was obvious that he had some real issues, but didn't that come with the job, she mused? Being a hero was not a walk in the park. It meant dealing with many dark and terrible things. "He thinks you want to kill yourself, Richard."

"Who? Bruce?" Nightwing laughed. "Maybe I just don't care if my next breath is my last. Maybe I've just started to realize that this life sucks and I'm hoping that in the next one I'll be reunited with the woman I love. Maybe you can all just go to hell."

"What about Bruce?"

"To hell with Bruce!"

"He didn't kill the Joker, did he?"

"He said he did!"

"Richard…."

"He confessed," Nightwing screamed. "Just leave it at that!"

"Who killed the Joker?"

"Batman."

"Who killed the Joker?"

"Batman, you bitch!"

"Who killed the Joker?" she asked a final time as she pulled out her lasso.

"I did!" he bellowed, giving in once again to the voices that begged him to tell the world what he had done. "I killed him!"

Wonder Woman's jaw dropped and Nightwing couldn't believe that she was so shocked by the revelation. He halfway believed that Bruce had told her truth anyway. Then he noticed she wasn't looking at him, but just over his shoulder.

Nightwing whirled to see Superman, his face ashen, leaning against the doorframe. "No," he mumbled, despair and pain in his voice. "Not you…" The Man of Steel looked at him with eyes that seemed to be examining a corpse. "You were the good one…"


	12. Chapter 12

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

Nightwing turned to the man who had been his greatest hero but could offer nothing but a whimper as he watched Superman crumple under the weight of his own expectations. "The good one" had aptly described what the entire super-hero community had believed about him. From his very beginnings, when he had been a wide-eyed child fighting alongside the Dark Knight, everyone had assumed that he was the light that shined into the darkness of the Batman. Little did they realize that Batman had been the candle that dispersed the night away from the citizens of Gotham City and he had been somebody who simply tagged along for the ride.

"Superman…" he said weakly.

"Richard, how could you let Bruce take the blame?" Wonder Woman asked, not believing what she had heard. Inside her brain she knew it had been true; it was the only reasonable explanation. Despite her revulsion at the thought that Nightwing was the guilty party, her heart leapt knowing that her love and trust in Bruce was justified. "He is your father!"

Nightwing turned back to her quickly. "I know that, but there was nothing I could do. Bruce manipulated all of the evidence! He wanted me to carry on the mission, thinking it would be better than sitting inside a cell…"

"Or maybe he was so horrified by what he saw he simply could not face it," Superman said, his voice regaining some composure. "How could you? How could you throw away our ideals and then lie to us?"

The leader of the Justice League turned back towards his hero and tried to offer an explanation. "I couldn't prove anything…"

"You could have talked to us, Richard," Wonder Woman said. "You could have told us the truth."

"You've made a mockery of the League," Superman added, his voice now becoming angry.

"No!" Nightwing cried out, trying to come up with a way to make them see his view, but at the same time relishing in the fact that the truth was out. He was free now, able to run away from the voices. No longer did they have the secret of his crime to hang over his head. Now he could give up the identity, he could finally just accept whatever punishment was given to him.

But some other voice inside of him, the voice that had pushed him during the training the Batman had put him through, spoke up and told him that giving up would not be that easy. "I have served the League with the same honor and dedication that the Batman would have put forth," he told them.

"The Batman sacrificed his freedom for a son that could not respect the opportunities given to him," Superman said, standing fully erect. It was Nightwing's turn to step back. "I am ashamed to admit that I was so easily led to believe that Bruce Wayne could commit such a cowardly act, but that is nothing compared to the guilt you should feel, Dick!"

"Clark…"

"No, Diana, he needs to have someone tell him what is so wrong about what he has done!" Superman argued. He returned his attention to Nightwing and forced from his mind the image of a young Robin whom he had found so impressive at one time. "You were given an opportunity to make a difference in your world. A man who needed nobody extended a hand to you and presented you with a choice and you accepted his offer. But you failed to make the commitment to protect life, all life…"

"You've killed before, Clark," Nightwing pointed out quickly. It was true: Superman had indeed executed Kryptonian criminals in the past.

"Only after a fair trial under the laws of my people," Superman was even quicker to point out. "You gave the Joker nothing like that. You killed him because he made you mad…"

Despite the fact he was facing the most powerful man in the universe, at least in his mind, Nightwing found himself taking a step forward. "He killed the woman I loved. He cut her up like a vegetable."

Superman paused and closed his eyes. "Barbara's death was a tragedy…"

"It was more than that! My life ended in that moment! I wanted die so I could be with her! I want to die now!" Nightwing cried out, throwing the truth out for all to see. "She was my world, don't you see? The world should have ended with her death…"

Wonder Woman moved a little closer. "Richard, you don't need to die for this."

Superman opened his eyes. "But the truth needs to be revealed to the world. We will help you, Dick, but we are going to free Bruce as well. You committed a crime and I believe that you are sorrowful, but that is not enough."

"You have to resign from the League, Richard," Wonder Woman said in a calm voice. Bruce had been correct; his son had been torturing himself for years over what he had done, but she could not yet say that everything was right. He was still trying to say that what he had done was right and she wasn't so sure that he was wrong. In her homeland, she felt he would have been hailed as a hero for quickly handing out revenge for the death of someone he loved. "You have to let the truth out."

He turned one final time to look into her eyes and he discovered that when he looked at them without any thoughts of malice or deceit, they were very pretty eyes. In fact, she seemed to radiate before him, a golden anchor by which he would hitch the remainder of his life to. He didn't have to die to pay for his crimes and his eyes watered as he finally saw redemption within his grasp.

Then it all changed.

"Intruder alert, intruder alert," the computerized voice of the JLA security system called out. The red siren lights that were mounted in every room and passageway activated.

Reflexes and training kicked in. "I'll head to the monitor room," Superman said. He looked back at Nightwing, but said nothing. He had been with the League for many years and had not betrayed them in battle. "This isn't resolved," he said in a warning tone. All of them knew it wasn't, but the current situation prevented them from furthering anything else on the matter.

As Superman moved away at super-speed, Wonder Woman put a hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "Under the circumstances, you understand that I'm taking command," she said.

He mumbled something and she assumed it was an acknowledgement. She did not relish the idea of sending a suicidal man into possible battle, but she really had no choice. She was technically on monitor duty now and there were no other members present in the headquarters. She had to rely on him. "We can help you, Richard," she said, not sure if he believed it.

She exited the room, running down the passageway to the security terminal at the junction that would give her a more updated explanation of what was going on. Nightwing stood there, suddenly feeling hot and sweaty. He unclasped his shirt and tore it off, feeling as if he were peeling off a dirty skin, but he felt no cleaner with his bare chest heaving in the air-conditioned room.

His emotions were running on high and he knew it; everything from panic to paranoia to perverse pleasure was coursing through his system. He was free he kept telling himself but at the same time he realized that wasn't really true. Now he had to endure the scorn of former friends and allies; his heroes would look upon him as a failure, no longer the "good one". Nobody would care that he could have never proved his guilt, nobody would want to hear how the entire ordeal had been tearing him apart for years, how he had been rejected by God for doing the right thing.

It had been the right thing, hadn't it?

Wasn't even the price of sending the Batman to jail worth having a world free of the Joker?

He screamed and his fist landed hard enough against the bulkhead to dent the stainless steel in. He felt nothing; the padding of his costume and the pain-killing aspects of rage kept him from experiencing anything unpleasant. He hit the wall again and again. "I was right! I was right!" he said over and over, raising his voice so that it could be heard over the warning klaxon.

"Nightwing?" a familiar voice asked. Nightwing turned to regard Impulse. The fastest member of the League would have responded to the intruder alert immediately. "You okay?" he asked.

Nightwing fought for control. He wanted to tell Bart everything, but too much truth had been let out today and nothing good was going to come of it. Instead he moved over to his tossed shirt and grabbed it. "Diana is running the team now," he said slowly. The speedster started to speak, but Nightwing cut him off. "She's in charge, Bart; Do what she says.'

He nodded slowly, understanding that something huge was going on. He couldn't guess what it was, but then he didn't have the time. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, racing through the passageways trying to find Wonder Woman.

"I guess I should leave," he said. The Intruder Alert was serious, but he did not feel heroic, did not feel he belonged in halls meant to house heroes. "I was right," he told himself again.

There was a scream, a blood-curdling howl of pain and Impulse burst into the room. He was vibrating at an accelerated rate, trying to shake something off of him. Nightwing saw it was some sort of black ooze. "Obsidian," he whispered as he moved to help the younger hero.

Impulse refused to stop, explaining that if he allowed his molecular structure to stabilize, the dark matter would kill him. "Go help, Diana," he pleaded. "I can keep this up for awhile," he said.

Nightwing started to protest. Wonder Woman would not want or need his help he was sure, and Superman would not appreciate it either. Though he had been in the hero business for over three decades, he felt like an outsider. "Please, Dick," Impulse said again.

Nightwing nodded; he could not let anything happen to Diana. No more of his friends were going to die. He ran out of the room and called to the computer. "Locate member Wonder Woman," he ordered.

"Wonder Woman is in the cafeteria."

The former leader of the Justice League came to a quick halt and turned down a corridor that led to the rear of the kitchen. "Where is former member Superman?" he asked as he approached the door.

"Superman is no longer in the headquarters."

"Where is he? Trace his signal device!"

There was a pause. "Superman cannot be found."

"Last known location?"

"Cafeteria."

"Oh, God, no," Nightwing said as he realized that Superman had been pulled into the nether dimension that gave Obsidian his powers. It was a realm based on the laws of magic, one of the few forces in the galaxy that could harm and even kill Superman. He could not allow the world to be denied its greatest champion.

With a battle cry, Nightwing kicked open the door to the kitchen and scanned the area quickly. It was relatively quiet but a few fires were burning in the serving line. He darted through the food preparation area and halted at the swinging doors that led to main eating area.

The cafeteria had been designed with large team gatherings in mind. It was supposed to hold over a hundred people and there had been enough seating put in to accommodate such a number. Every single booth and table had been knocked over or torn out, used as weapons by the combatants. Wonder Woman was down, a strong indicator that Obsidian had become more powerful in his years of absence.

Because his powers were magical in nature, there was no way to gauge them. Foes like that were particularly dangerous. Obsidian was standing over the fallen Amazon, black tendrils of nether-matter dripping from his hands.

He seemed taller than Nightwing remembered, but he radiated the same evil. He turned to the hero as Nightwing entered the room. Inside his cloak only his teeth and eyes were visible. "Ah, the murderous leader of the Justice League," Obsidian said. "Now that your teammates are taken out of the picture, you and I can have a nice talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Nightwing told him, not bothering to try and figure out how he knew about Nightwing's past crime. When you lived in shadows, you tended to see all of the darkness he supposed. "Get away from her."

Obsidian looked down at Wonder Woman. "She is quite beautiful…for a woman," he announced. "But she isn't the reason I'm here."

"Let me guess, you want to reapply for membership in the League?" Nightwing asked.

"Oh, no, Richie Rich," Obsidian said, waggling a finger at the hero. "I came to make you an offer. You see, I'm lonely…my crusade has cost me my father, my sister and all of my former friends…"

"Maybe if you didn't try to kill everyone you meet…"

"I haven't tried to kill you yet," the villain was quick to point out. "You should hear me out."

"You killed one of my best friends," Nightwing told him, his anger and ire apparent. "You murdered children."

"I suppose that you are now going to give me a lecture about how some lives are worth more than others, that it was okay for you to murder the Joker, but because I wanted to kill a few super-powered brats, I'm some sort of bad person," Obsidian replied and Nightwing had to force his jaw shut.

"You're insane…"

Obsidian threw his head back and laughed with pure joy. It was an awful sound and Nightwing suddenly found himself wondering if that was what hell sounded like. "You call me crazy? You killed the Joker in cold blood…"

"You don't even know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I know more than what you think," Obsidian whispered. "I've been there, Dick. I've seen the other side and I can tell you that what you did was right. The Joker was a plague on this planet, just like so many others." He stepped away from the prone form of Wonder Woman and slowly approached Nightwing. The hero did not bother to turn and run; Obsidian could teleport anywhere instantly. There was no running away from him. "You know what I know, that sometimes extreme measures have to be taken to ensure that the world is a good place."

"No," Nightwing said, shaking his head. "I killed a man who was bent on destroying everything that was good in this world, everything that was right. You want the same thing, Todd. You dress it up to make it sound like a crusade, but it's the same old insanity" Nightwing spread his arms out. "Look at all of this destruction," he said and then he pointed to Wonder Woman. "Don't tell me you think that somehow she is the root of all evil. It's all in your head, Todd."

"Just like the voices that tell you to jump, or to pull the trigger?" Nightwing felt a shudder run down his spine. "Oh, I know those thoughts as well, Dick. For years they tormented me because of the things I had done. But you can compromise with the devil, Dick; you don't have to kill yourself."

"What? Become a mass murderer like you? Become drunk on perversion and evil?"

"Join the dark side, Dick," Obsidian said, referencing a line from an old science fiction movie. "You don't have to die."

It was Nightwing's turn to start laughing. "Why does everyone try to tell me I don't need to die? Has anyone considered that maybe I just want to leave all of this behind; that I don't think that this life is worth living anymore? Are you offering my life, Todd? Is that it?" He took a step towards Obsidian. "How about it, Todd? My life for Superman's?"

The white eyes of Obsidian briefly flashed green, a sign of the power behind his abilities. Nightwing felt no fear though, but strangely he did not hear the voices either. Finally standing on the brink of death, they had deserted him. But that was okay; as long as Superman lived then it would be okay.

"I don't make deals, Nightwing. I offered you the chance to join me and to make something of the life you've ruined." Obsidian spread out his cape and a wave of cold washed over Nightwing. It was so cold it actually burned and he screamed in pain as he felt himself tumbling down. He lost all sense of time as he continued a fall and he believed he was tumbling towards some fiery pit. At any moment he expected to feel flames burning his costume and skin.

Then he stopped falling.

The light burned.

That was the only thing he could think of, the only thing he could concentrate on. The light was so intense that it blasted through his shut eyelids and seemed to bore into his brain. He wanted to turn away from it, but it was everywhere. It was so intense that he was positive that he could reach out and touch it, grab the light and pull it close or push it away. "Turn off the light," he said weakly.

"The light of truth cannot be extinguished. Always it will burn," a voice called out.

"Oh, God, what now?" Nightwing said as he pushed himself up off of whatever he was laying on. Slowly he opened his eyes, fearing that the intensity of the radiance would burn out his retinas, but he was happily surprised to find that there was no pain. It was bright, yet he could still see.

"An intervention," the voice replied, answering his question. "Advocates have raised a cry and the Presence has heard. On your knees."

"No," Nightwing said, moving into a defensive stance. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he was not about to simply surrender to a disembodied voice. "On your knees!" the voice repeated.

"And I said no."

"Arrogance! Such arrogance!"

"Unworthy primate…" a rough voice cried out.

"Now, Michael," a more serene voice said. "He is confused and angry…"

"I do not care, he is unworthy of this honor!"

"On your knees!" the first voice ordered again, but Nightwing refused to comply.

"Make me," he said, daring them to show themselves.

A blow to the back of his legs sent him crashing down onto his knees. Stunned, he looked up to behold the face of Zauriel. "When commanded, you will obey."

"Am I dead?" Nightwing asked.

"No," the second voice said. "Though you should be."

"You must forgive, Michael, he has…issues with the fallen," the third voice tried to explain. "It is not often that someone like you gets a chance like this…"

"He doesn't deserve it! He is a murderer, an adulterer, and a liar! He had broken more commandments that I care to count. Ten laws given to man, yet they choose to obey none!" Michael's tone was provoking. "They take too much for granted!"

"We must listen to the advocates!"

"What is this?" Nightwing asked out loud, hoping someone would answer him. Without warning, another body dropped next to him. He immediately recognized the dark form of Obsidian.

"The light! Turn it off! Turn it off!" the villain cried.

Nightwing smiled at his pain.

"Arrogance! See how the plight of another amuses him! He claims to be an angel when he is really a minion of the pits!"

"The advocates!"

Zauriel stepped in front of the two prisoners. "Honored brethren, we must stop this infighting. The Presence has ordained that the advocates would speak to try and allow the truth to be known, to redeem the soul of Richard Grayson."

"My soul?" Nightwing murmured. He then looked at Obsidian. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" the villain responded quickly, even as he tried to sink back into his cloak. "I was going to drop you into deep space!"

"Let the first advocate step forward," Zauriel called out. "Let them come forward into the light of truth and speak the same."

Obsidian started to get up, but the angel kicked back, catching him in the chin. "Do not move unless told," he commanded.

Nightwing kept smiling despite the obvious way it infuriated the hidden Michael. "Where am I?" he asked. "Why am I here?"

Out of the light stepped a figure, female by the way she walked and the way her curves stood out. Nightwing gasped; he knew that silhouette. "Baby…"

Into view stepped Barbara Gordon, the former Batgirl and last victim of the Joker. "Dick, oh my poor sweetheart, I'm so sorry I left you."

He started to get up but Zauriel put a hand out. Nightwing took the hand and attempted to put the angel into a hold that should have forced him to his knees. Zauriel turned quickly and countered the hold, but Nightwing was prepared and cart wheeled in place to kick the angel in the face. Zauriel grabbed the hero's leg with his free hand and put an immediate end to the struggle. With a shove, Nightwing fell. "I want to see her," Nightwing told him. "Babs! Babs!"

"He loves her," the calm voice declared. "Can you not see how it brightens the soul? His passion knows no bounds."

"If he loved her so much he would not have defiled her memory!" Michael snapped.

"Babs!"

"Dick, you have to confess…you have to unburden yourself," she pleaded. Her eyes were filled with tears. "You know what you did was wrong."

"No!" he told her, still struggling to get past Zauriel. "He killed you! He killed you and took my life with you. He wasn't worth anything."

"Arrogance! How dare he try to judge who may live and who may die!"

"Michael…"

"No, Gabriel, I will be heard. The advocate pleads for his soul and yet he refuses to acknowledge that what he did was wrong!"

"Babs!"

Zauriel finally gave Nightwing a hard shove that sent him back on his butt. The hero jumped back up, but Barbara was gone. "The next advocate, step forward," Zauriel ordered.

Nightwing called out to Barbara again, but it was no use; she was gone. In her place came another figure and when it came out into the light, Nightwing stood frozen in place. "How?" he asked the figure and several moments passed before there was an answer.


	13. Chapter 13

Nightwing: The Darkness

Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced without permission.

It was the Joker that stepped into view.

Or at least it was the man who had become the Joker, Mr. Jack Napier. Had he seen the _Mona Lisa_ hanging on a wall with a moustache drawn over the world-famous grin, he would not have been more shocked. Take away the chalk-white skin and the emerald green hair, and the Joker looked relatively odd. So used to the nightmarish face of his foe had he become that Nightwing was taken aback by what he saw, a normal man with nothing but pity in his eyes.

"You have to stop this, Richard," the Joker said, his voice not full of insanity, but clear and concise. It was unnerving. Even Obsidian had trouble looking at the spirit of the criminal. "This is madness," he said to himself, but all present heard it.

"The only madness is the fact that both of you continue to deny the truth of your existences," Zauriel was quick to point out. "Different motives, same result; both of you deny that what you are doing is wrong. For you Obsidian, you believe that the metahumans and costumed adventurers that now serve in the capacity of your late father somehow promote his perceived abandonment of you and your sister."

The angel then turned his attention to the shaken Nightwing. "And you continue to try to justify a wrong action with nothing but wrong reasons."

"You murdered my body, but my soul was finally set free, Richard," the Joker said. He stepped slightly forward and Nightwing wanted to turn and run. Facing the man he had murdered in cold blood had him shaking all over. "The madness I could not control, I had no choice but to follow it. But my madness served a higher purpose."

"If the Joker is in Heaven, then I don't know I want to go there," Nightwing said.

"I had no control over my madness, though now I have many regrets," the former Clown Prince continued. "Barbara has forgiven me."

Anger, fierce and blazing welled up in Nightwing's throat. "That's a God damned lie," he said, not caring who heard him or why. "You filthy piece of slime, you should be rotting in Hell! In Hell!"

"His anger is beyond reasoning," Michael told them. "He allows his hatred for this man to override his love for both the Presence and the good soul."

"The good soul?" Nightwing asked out loud. "You mean Barbara?" He waited for an answer and when he did not immediately get one, he continued. "Yes, she was a good soul, as were so many others, including my step brother Jason…"

"Whom you were more jealous of than anything else because your father chose him to replace you…"

"I needed time to grow, to mature…"

Michael snorted. "And what a fine job you did, Dick Grayson; you ended up murdering a man who did not have full control of his faculties, a man whose very body had been physically changed by an accident…

"Jack Napier voluntarily joined in with the heist that led to his bath in chemicals," Nightwing quickly pointed out, remembering the origin of the Joker. "He has to carry some of the blame!"

"But he recognized the error of his ways upon his death!"

"Am I dead?" Nightwing asked again. "Am I?"

"Don't you see how this has torn you apart, Richard? You never really wanted to kill me, you just overreacted," the Joker explained, trying to end the confrontation there.

"Don't talk to me you pathetic piece of crap," Nightwing told him. "If I had my way I'd drag you down to the gates of Hell myself." He started to stand up again when Zauriel turned to face him.

"You have no idea how lucky you are. The souls of those who love you have petitioned the Presence and have been granted leave to present your case before a jury of the righteous. Yet you act like a child…"

"I did nothing wrong!"

"You don't seriously believe that do you?" the angel asked. "You killed a man in cold blood!"

"A man that you angels didn't have the balls to kill yourself! You preach about how precious life is; yet you allowed a murdering animal like the Joker to continue to exist! Where is the logic in that?" Nightwing was starting to rant and the large angel said nothing, but instead narrowed his eyes. "And when I did your job for you, you denied me access to my God for absolution…"

"Your argument has no merit," Zauriel pronounced. "Why, Richard Grayson, would you need absolution if you did nothing wrong? Answer that question…please instruct us…"

The hero took a step back and shook his head. "You're twisting my words…"

Zauriel moved forward a single step, keeping the distance between him and Nightwing. "You have worked so hard to deny the truth that what you did was wrong. It has poisoned your soul and blackened your heart."

"Don't listen to them, Grayson!" Obsidian cried out, true fear in his voice. "They are just trying to cover up their mistakes."

"Would you listen to we, the chosen servants of a higher power, or this man who wants to kill you? He wants you to die because when he looks at any super-hero he sees what he could have been. It was your father, the Batman, that pointed out that very fact and this pathetic creature could not deal with it." Zauriel briefly turned his attention to Obsidian. "Look well at him, Richard, for he is you."

"He killed Barbara…"

"Yes, I did," the Joker admitted. "And I killed several hundred other people as well, men, women and children. But you don't understand, my brain was changed…"

"Then you should have been killed," Nightwing spat.

"By whose authority?" Zauriel asked. "Did you suddenly decide that you were going to subvert the will of the state…"

"God! You sound just like Bruce!"

"The Batman is far wiser than you would like to believe," Gabriel said.

"It wasn't wrong! Now bring Barbara back!" Nightwing demanded.

There was silence for a few moments and then the light faded away. Zauriel began to glow with a blue radiance and his wings flapped, carrying him above the two prisoners. "I, too, had hopes for your Richard Grayson. Many times over you saved the world of man and threw yourself into harm's way to protect your fellow man. Blessed are those with strength that protect the weak, but cursed be those who arrogantly believe themselves superior to will of the people and of God." The angel took a deep breath. "You killed a man in cold blood and relished in it and in that instant, you became like that man. You drove a knife through the heart of your life and shattered the dreams of so many. All of the good deeds you performed pale in comparison to the crime that you refuse to admit to.

"Good-bye, Richard Grayson; despite the efforts of so many souls, you have become lost."

He was cold again and it was dark. The tumbling had started over and his fall was accelerating. He immediately realized he was trapped in the negative dimension that made up the body of Obsidian. The villain's laughter roared all about him.

"I cannot believe how foolish you are, Nightwing! You were given a chance for a reprieve! They would have saved you from me, but you slapped away their hand!" The cold voice continued to chuckle. "Now you are going to die a very painful and slow death, Nightwing. As the protector of Gotham City, you are the direct inheritor of my wayward father's mantle. And after you, I'll go after whoever replaces you; perhaps the Huntress?"

"Leave her alone, Todd!" Nightwing called out. His teeth were starting to chatter as the cold began to have an effect on him. "If its me you want, I'm right here," he said to the darkness, his mind desperately wanting it all to end. He was going to hell, but that was fine with him. At least then he would be too busy screaming to think about how badly he had screwed up.

As his limbs went numb and Obsidian continued to provide a narrative of what he would be doing once Nightwing was dead, the hero decided to concentrate on his life. His thoughts went from his earliest memories with his parents, to their deaths, to the day Batman had handed him the Robin costume. From there he remembered the first day he had met her. "Barbara," he whispered.

He continued to shiver, but he also started to feel warm as he focused solely on her and what their lives had been like together. He remembered with sadness the night she had been shot by the Joker and paralyzed, effectively ending any chance of her ever having children. Yet, she had never wanted to kill the Joker for taking away her life.

"Everything happens for a reason, Wingnut," she had told him once when he had asked about her feelings. "Every action has a reaction. I don't want to be the Joker; I pity him in a way. I have everything in the world, including a man who loves me and what does he have? If he is ever convicted after a fair trial, I'll go to his execution, but to just murder him…well, that's just plain wrong."

"…plain wrong…"

Nightwing's eyes opened. "It was wrong," he said, the last of the demons screaming obscenities at him for daring to seek the truth. "It was wrong! It was wrong!"

"What?" Obsidian asked in mid-laugh.

"It was wrong! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Nightwing screamed with the last of the warm breath in his lungs. "Oh, God, forgive me! Barbara! I'm sorry!"

"No!" Obsidian cried out. "You did one right thing in your life…"

Then there was darkness.

Wonder Woman held her hurt arm with her undamaged one while Impulse stopped vibrating in front of the black whirling mass that was in the middle of the cafeteria. Suddenly a body fell out and the Amazon was relieved to see that it was the familiar form of her good friend, Superman. Impulse quickly checked him out. "He's breathing, but his body is really cold to the touch!"

The speedster began rubbing the Man of Steel's limbs at super speed, using kinetic energy to raise his body temperature. After a few seconds he stopped. "I think he'll be okay!"

"What the hell is going on?" Arrowette asked as she stepped into the damaged area. Impulse's face brightened. "I got the signal…A-One priority," she said as she unnotched her bow. "Sweet Christ what is that thing?" she asked, pointing at the mass.

"We think its Obsidian," Wonder Woman replied. Red Tornado entered as well and moved to help the vice-chair of the League. "Superman and Nightwing were both in there."

"Nightwing? He's in that?" she asked, horror in her voice.

"It will be okay, baby," Impulse offered. She gave him an odd look and managed a slight grin. Today would be the day she would tell him it was over. She was still deciding on whether or not to let out that she was pregnant.

Red Tornado approached the mass. "I can try to enter and see if I can locate Nightwing," he offered.

"Negative," Wonder Woman commanded. "If Obsidian can take down Kal-El, then we are going to need Green Lantern up here before we start anything. Bart?"

Impulse was next to her in less than the blink of an eye. "Ma'am?" he asked, his spirits lifted by the sight of his estranged wife.

"Find out where Lantern is and get the Justice Society up here, now," the Amazon ordered. Impulse threw a longing glance at Arrowette, hoping for some sort of sigh that everything was going to be okay, but he received nothing. Still, he surmised, her presence was a start and he raced to the monitor room.

"Oh, God," Arrowette said in a hushed voice as she moved past the Red Tornado, "please let him be alright."

"Superman is recovering thanks to Impulse," Wonder Woman said. Arrowette turned around and their eyes met and it was if a link had been formed between them. The League chairwoman finally understood. She offered no judgment, but instead bit her bottom lip to keep from saying something inappropriate. Now was not the time for a lecture on morality.

But in her heart, Wonder Woman was starting to realize that the Nightwing she had worked with for so many years had been a chameleon, blending into the scenery of the Justice League, hoping not to be noticed. How many other skeletons were in his closet? Did she really want to know? Did she really want her perceptions of the man she had watched grow to maturity over the years to be laid askew by his depression?

But what had he been depressed about she continued to ponder? He had tried to justify his actions, all of them, including Bruce's conviction for the crime. Was that rational?

She had never had children and so she could not begin to judge Bruce harshly for his parental abilities, but she suspected that part of the problem might have lain with him as he had stated. Bruce had never allowed his adoptive son to grieve for his true parents. Instead he had been pushed into a life of fighting for justice where dark emotions were channeled into action. Perhaps the death of Barbara Gordon had finally just pushed him over the edge and he had been spending the last few years trying to convince himself he never lost control.

"Dick?" Arrowette asked, her body trembling.

In response a body was disgorged from the dark matter and tumbled onto the floor. Arrowette was first to him, scooping him up and putting her check to his. She pulled back immediately. "He's stone cold!"

"Impulse, here now!" Wonder Woman cried out. The computer would relay her voice to the monitor room. The speedster was there in a flash, taking Nightwing from his wife. "I have him, Ciss," he said when she would not immediately let go.

"Yeah," she said as she fell back on her haunches. Instinctively she put her arms around her stomach, as if trying to protect her unborn child from the horror that was taking place. Did babies sense what their mother's sensed? She prayed they didn't.

Impulse did everything he could, but ultimately he failed. "He's gone," he said.

Superman's eyes opened and he rolled over to see the corpse of Nightwing. He said nothing, but instead closed his eyes and said a prayer to Rao that the spirit of the troubled young man would be carried away to a better place.

The heroes assembled represented the best of the current super-hero community, some veterans and some not. They were all gathered inside the Memorial Satellite, a repository for the fallen of their class. Some of the greatest costumed adventurers were interned there, over 22000 miles above the Earth's surface. Green Arrow. Arsenal. Hal Jordan. The Atom. Mr. Terrific.

Nightwing.

"We gather here today to pay our final respects to a Titan, an Outsider and a League member that time and time again put his life on the line to ensure that the rest of us could live. Everyone gathered in this room at some point had their lives touched by the actions of Richard Grayson," Wonder Woman said from the podium. The body of Nightwing was locked in a coffin made of titanium, directly in front of Wonder Woman.

In the front row of mourners sat those who had been closest to him: Bruce Wayne (in the custody of Superman), the current League membership (including Arrowette with her husband Impulse), Wally West, the Huntress, Timothy Drake (the former third Robin) and Cassandra Cain (his wife and the former third Batgirl).

"I could stand up here and talk about the Richard we all knew, but I think I'd rather tell you about the one we didn't. Despite the dark exterior, he was a man who loved passionately and who was loved even fiercer. He had his problems and yet he tried very hard to not let them interfere with what he saw as his mission in life: to serve the people. He was not perfect, though many tried to make it appear that he was," she said, pausing briefly to look down at Superman. The Kryptonian had taken Nightwing's death very hard and surprisingly, it was Bruce who had to hold him up.

Bruce himself had taken the news with a sigh and a shake of the head. Wonder Woman was sure that in private, the tears had fallen freely, but Bruce Wayne felt it necessary to put on a brave face. Nothing would be said to discredit his son; his confession about the murder of the Joker would be kept secret, even from Arrowette. A martyr for the cause had the former Teen Wonder become.

Wonder Woman continued the eulogy, gazing out at the assembled heroes and occasionally picking out a face in the crowd that had some special meaning. Far in the back stood Garth, the former Titan called Tempest; she knew that he and Nightwing had fallen out some years before and apparently never reconciled.

Strangely missing was Kory Anders, Dick Grayson's former fiancé. There had been no sighting of her for weeks and the Amazon assumed that she had finally left Earth for good.

"Nightwing will always be remembered for his bravery, for his courage under fire. He died fighting a menace that wanted to kill one of his friends," she said before there was a loud sniffle from Lois Lane. "Such bravery deserves the reward of eternal peace and Nightwing's faith described such a thing. It is my hope and I am sure all of yours, that he has finally found that bliss."

10 years later….

The island was technically part of the government of Thymerscria, but to anyone who wore a cape and tights, it was Wayne Isle. Purchased by billionaire Bruce Wayne just before his "reported" death a year before, it served as the home of his "former" wife Princess Diana and her new husband, the young and dashing Grayson Pennyworth, a nobody who had appeared on the social scene shortly after Wayne's highly publicized funeral.

The only building on the one square mile block of land in the Mediterranean Sea was a home built in the style of ancient Greek architecture, whose centerpiece was a pit.

A Lazarus Pit.

The island was filled with activity as children and adults happily played in the warm sun. A celebration was occurring and the hosts were busy working the crowds.

"Bruce…I mean, Grayson, this is the best one yet," Superman said. The years had been kind to the Man of Steel as he had not lost any hair, though it was stark white now. The seemingly younger man shook his hand and nodded. "It's only the second one, Clark."

"Yes, well, I enjoy them all the same. I think it's a damn good idea to hold a special day to remember our fallen comrades," Superman replied. The day had originally been Wonder Woman's idea, as a way of allowing the surviving heroes a chance to let loose, sit back and talk about their friends that were no longer with us.

"I'm so glad you enjoy my ideas, Clark," a very pregnant Wonder Woman said as she walked up. Even with her belly swollen she oozed beauty and grace. "It has to be twins because Hera help me if I try to pass a child this large out," she commented.

"Pasta! Who wants pasta?" a large, dark haired woman said, holding up a plate of spaghetti. Several dark-haired children danced around her.

"Helena, don't tease the children, they're famished," Wonder Woman called.

"They need the exercise," the former Huntress called back. "Or else they end up looking like me!"

"You're very pretty, Miss Helena," one young boy said.

Helena stooped over and gave the child a kiss on the forehead. "An extra piece of pie for you!"

Wonder Woman and Superman continued to talk, even as Bruce begged off to search the crowd. There were fewer friends this year, but many newer faces. He saw Arthur and Garth playing on the beach with several of the younger heroines (typical he thought), while Ray Palmer simply sat under a tree with his eyes closed, possibly remembering the good old days.

A flash of blonde hair caught Bruce's eye and he jogged over to the reception area where his personal attendants were helping offload a ferryboat. He stopped in front of the woman. "Ms. King?" he asked.

"Good lord," Cissie said, taking a good look at Bruce. "That thing really works, doesn't it?"

"Batman always has an edge, even on old age," he replied with a smile. She marveled at how much he reminded her of Dick when he had been in his better moods. "I have a second chance on life; I've decided to try and do it a little better this time."

Three children, all of them a decade old and dressed in similar clothes, huddled around Cissie's legs. "My kids," she said introducing them one at a time. They were triplets, yet each had a different hair color. The blonde was named Olivia, after Oliver Queen. The red-haired child with the spunky spirit and a mischievous grin was Harper. The dark haired and final child, who was shyer than the other two, was Robin.

"Children," she said, "this is your grandfather."

"He's young," Harper said.

"Is this your island, grandpa?" Olivia asked.

But Robin remained quiet and simply stared, as if Bruce were something she could not quite comprehend. Kai Drake, the teenaged son of Timothy and Cassandra Drake, ran up and offered to take the children to the pay area, where Zatanna was putting on a magic show. After the children had left, Robin casting a final glance at Bruce, who waved to her, Cissie let out a sigh of relief. "That was easier than I expected."

Bruce nodded, his face becoming serious. "I was sorry to hear you and Bart divorced."

Cissie shrugged. "I tried to make it work, but once he found out about Dick and I, he couldn't get past it. I don't blame him, but it has been hard on the children."

He said nothing for a long moment, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject. "You do know they are entitled to Dick's inheritance?"

"A few million dollars isn't going to help…"

"It's six billion."

Her face lost all of its blood. "Really," she said, nodding her head as a small smile crept onto Bruce's face. "That might be a little different…"

He laughed and put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm glad you came; those children are my only ties to him," Bruce said as they moved towards a path that skirted the beach.

"You know, I miss him still. He had this way of dominating your life, of just filling it with …with…"

"I know," Bruce agreed. "But he had his problems."

"Diana finally told me about the Joker," she confessed. Bruce looked out to where his bride was busy serving food to their guests. "She did, did she?" he said, an edge to his voice.

"I needed to know," she told him. "I needed to know the truth of why he wouldn't fall in love with me."

"He was hurting too much…we were all hurting too much," Bruce explained. "We all made some stupid mistakes."

They stopped and Cissie brushed back her hair as the wind blew it into her face. She stared up into the open sky. "Yeah, but at least he's not hurting now."

It always starts the same way.

The sun is beating down on my face and I can hear the ocean in the background. I know what I will see when I open my eyes.

She stands there, dressed in the string bikini I bought her during that trip we made in secret, the one where we made love on the beach for hours on end. That time when we confessed our undying love for each other and then we cried when we realized that we could not be together just yet.

Just never it seemed.

She lowers down onto her knees and shades my eyes with her hand; in the other is an intoxicating island drink. In the background I can hear Jason, calling out in joy as he splashes in the water with Batmite. "Dick! Dick! Watch him, man! Come on, brother!"

But I don't look; instead I gaze up at her and reach up to play with a loose strand of red hair that has fallen. "Hey, babe," I say. I'm so happy to see her that I hope against hope that the moment doesn't end.

"I love you, Dick," she says.

"That's a fine catch, son!" my father calls out. He and my mother are performing on a trapeze that has been set up on the beach. Underneath them is Roy, running around chasing girls in thongs. "She's a keeper!"

"Mr. Grayson, you hush!" Barbara yells out before turning back to give me a light kiss. As she starts to move away, she thinks twice and then gives me another one, a deeper more passionate kiss that sets my body burning with desire. "Easy, boy," she says, patting my chest.

I take the drink from her and watch as a thin man approaches us, a small crowd with him. The crowd is laughing and I assume he is a comedian of sorts. As he draws nearer I finally am able to place a name to him. "Here comes Jack," I tell her.

"Of course it is," she says as she stands up. I tell her to stay, but she merely smiles and walks a few steps away. Jack and the crowd stop several feet from her. Then he pulls out a gun and shoots her through the stomach and the spine.

Her blood splatters onto me and I scream, calling out her name even as she hits the sand. Jack then turns the guns on the crowd, firing and firing, and I start to notice they are all people I know. Bruce. Alfred. Kory. Donna. Cissie.

The he shoots my parents.

Then Todd, Roy and Oliver.

Even Bat-Mite.

I can't move, my body won't respond even as Jack's skin begins to turn snow white and his hair emerald green. Barbara calls out to me to help, but I am unable. Instead I have to watch as he violates her and then slowly, over a twelve-hour period, cuts her into pieces.

I know it isn't them.

I hear the demons laughing, telling me that I deserve what I am getting.

Then the sea and sand are gone, replaced by black caverns and lava flows. I hear more screams, pathetic wailings of "I'm sorry! God! I'm sorry!"

I always seem to forget it's my own voice.

- "And I am aware now of how everything's gonna be fine one day…

Too late…I'm in Hell" from _Fine Again_ by Seether


End file.
